The Magical Saga of Halle Evans: Year One
by Beautiful T Jakson
Summary: Halle Evans knew she was unusual. She'd always simply figured it was a personal quirk; everybody had them. But when she finds out that her quirks are a little more pronounced than your average person's, she's thrust into a world of magic and mayhem. Join the Girl-Who-Lived as she forges a path decidedly different than her canon counterpart's. fem!Harry
1. Chapter 1

bObligatory Legal Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated creative properties are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Publishing company. I make no claims of ownership of any creative properties mentioned in this story. This story is written and posted entirely for recreational purposes, and no monetary profit is gained from this story./b

This story wormed its way into my head one day and just wouldn't leave. I'd heard of a few stories that were entire-cast gender-swaps or a female Harry of some variation, but none of them seemed quite right. Then one idea really hit: what if, instead of looking just like his father, iHalle/i Potter looked just like iher mother/i?

Well, it just took off from there.

So, I present to you the first chapter/prologue of Halle Evans: Year One.

* * *

In the village of Littlebourne, located in Kent, more generally located in South East England, there lived a girl and her family.

Halle Evans knew she was unusual. She'd always simply figured it was a personal quirk; everybody had them. Her brother, Dudley, was a big eater and had a baby face, even now at the age of eleven, and her mother was a worrywart, always fussing over Halle and Dudley if they got even the slightest cough.

Nonetheless, Halle's quirks were a bit more pronounced.

For instance, whenever she'd peruse the library and find a book she wanted to look at on the very top shelf (and, really, why make the shelves so high in a primary school library?), the books had always seemed to simply jump into her hand as though pushed. And on the few occasions that some schoolyard enemy of her brother's had decided to target her to get to Dudley (who was fiercely protective of her, mind you), sometime during the pursuit, she'd find herself blocks away, sometimes even conveniently standing down the candy aisle of her favorite store. And there was the one occasion where Derrick Collins had managed to get a hold of her shortly before a very angry squirrel manifested itself in his pants.

He still refused to be in the same room as Halle.

All told, though, Halle had chalked up those peculiarities to happenstance. She hadn't willed the books to fall into her hand or somehow mastered teleportation or entered into some secret pact with woodland vermin. Unless she sleepwalked.

So, until 23 June, 1991, Halle Evans thought she was simply strange as a matter of circumstance.

Then she had quite a civil conversation with a snake.

The morning had started off like any other, with Dudley (ever the early riser, somehow), bursting into Halle's room and shouting for her to get her lazy bum out of bed and do something with her life.

"It's my birthday!" he shouted from the doorway. "You just gonna lie there and sleep it away?"

"Oooooh, sod off, Dud," Halle grumbled, curling up tighter in her blankets. They were so _warm_; it would be _criminal_ to crawl out from under them!

Dud, it seemed, had other plans. Halle heard his footfalls cross the room before her bed sheets shifted, abruptly flying away from her. With a _very_ (very) displeased whine, she curled into a ball, glaring hatefully at her brother, who dropped the sheets to the floor.

Average of height but hefty of build, the only thing keeping Dudley from venturing into unhealthily overweight territory were membership to the school football team and frequent trips to the nearby park, where Halle's constant taunts of being able to climb the jungle gym faster or cross the monkey bars without falling ensured that he stayed active, lest he be beaten by a girl. His corn silk blond hair was messy but kept economically short, and his sea-blue eyes were full of mirth as he smirked at his sister.

"Up," he said, turning and traipsing out. Cursing her brother in ways she would never repeat in front of Mum, Halle clambered from her bed and staggered to her wardrobe, opening the door and gazing at herself in the mirror.

A boney girl of ten (and eleven months) stared back at her, long red hair falling past her shoulders and to the middle of her back. Currently, it was a messy crow's nest of tangles and knots that would need to be meticulously combed out before setting out for the zoo. As always, her almond-shaped green eyes seemed to pop from her pale face. Unnoticeable at the moment, tucked beneath her bangs, was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt marring the skin above her left eye, the only real feature of any interest about her. According to Mum, it was a parting gift from her abusive father before the divorce.

Letting a puff of air between her lips to send a red lock floating away from her nose, she grabbed out an outfit for the day (khaki shorts and a pink tank-top; it was rather warm this week) and clicked the wardrobe shut, dressing in a rush and making her way down the hall of the small flat the Evans family called home to the bathroom to brush her teeth and do what she could with her hair. Half an hour later, she emerged a new girl, her plait of hair a perfect curtain down her back and pulled from her face with a pink headband that also conveniently hid her scar.

She strolled downstairs to the small kitchen, spotting Dud in the sitting room watching cartoons on the telly while he munched on a plate of eggs and bacon. Mum rarely let them eat in the sitting room, but the two kids could almost get away with murder on a birthday. Turning to the kitchen, Halle smiled when she saw her mum setting a second fresh-made plate of food on the counter for her.

"Morning, Mum," she said, and Mum patted her affectionately on the head.

"Morning, Halle dear," she said. "Eat quickly; I'd like to be on the road as soon as possible. It's a two-hour drive to the zoo."

Nearly eight years ago, Petunia Evans was still Petunia Dursley, married to a horrible lump of man named Vernon Dursley, who ran some drill company. The exact circumstances of her divorce from said man were still a secret from the two children, but Dudley's favorite theory was that Vernon had pulled a gun on one of the two and Mum had fought him off with a sword. When asked, all Mum would say was that Vernon had had no idea how to raise children, and Petunia owed it to someone special to see that Halle and Dudley were raised properly.

Now, she was the editor of a gossip column in a rather popular celebrity magazine, though she insisted her children never read an issue.

"It's hardly appropriate for a child to read," was all she would say whenever the subject was brought up.

In any case, Mum made enough to ensure that she and her two children lived comfortably, if not extravagantly. While neither ever got a pile of gifts on their birthdays, they could be sure that they would get to do something fun, like a trip to an amusement park or a zoo.

This year, for Dudley's birthday, it was the London Zoo, while Halle's birthday would be a closer-to-home shopping trip. Halle didn't mind, of course; it wasn't like they were leaving her at home while Mum and Dudley went to the zoo.

After a hastily-eaten breakfast and a full two minutes spent searching for her left shoe, Halle was ready, and the three piled into Mum's car, Halle graciously conceding defeat in the battle for the front seat in honor of Dudley's special day. Relegated to the back seat, she sat and listened with a smile as Dudley excitedly listed off all the animals he wanted to see when they got to the zoo (which was pretty much every animal at the zoo).

"Mum, we _have _to go to the reptile house first!" he insisted. "Can we go to the reptile house first?"

"Yes, Dudders, we'll go to the reptile house first," Mum said, giving Halle a wink in the rearview mirror, and Halle smiled back. "Halle, any special place you want to visit after there?"

"I want to see the birds," Halle said, trying to keep the dreamy tenor out of her voice; she didn't want to sound like some giggly little girl who "just loved pretty birds".

Though, they _were_ pretty.

Looking back to the mirror, Halle thought she saw a flicker of fear on her mother's face, though as soon as she noticed the look, it was gone. Curious, she pondered. Maybe her mum was afraid of birds? Some people just couldn't stand when their wings started flapping like mad in their faces. One of the girls at school had brought in her pet cockatiel for Pet Day, and another boy had had to leave the room after it had gotten out of its cage.

Her mind was wandering.

Whatever the case, she dug through the little backpack she'd brought along, unearthing her Gameboy and her favorite Mario game. Last Christmas, Mum had gotten a substantial bonus from her magazine after numerous letters from fans saying that they originally subscribed to the magazine because of _Peeping Petunia_. The money had gone toward buying her two children the latest in handheld gaming technology. In the front seat, she saw Dud getting his own Gameboy out, though he preferred Solar Striker to Mario.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, with Halle occasionally asking Dudley (who had already beaten his own copy of Super Mario Land) for tips on how to beat a certain level. With a long-suffering sigh (and an amused smirk), Dud would reach back and take the game, easily stomping whatever point was giving Halle trouble.

"Hopeless little girl."

"Big arrogant oaf."

…

Halle wasn't a fan of snakes. The few garden-variety ones she'd encountered in the backyard had always given her the creeps, though perhaps it was simply the looks they gave her (if a snake was capable of such a thing), like they were expecting something.

It's not like she carried around live mice for them to snack on or something.

So, while Dudley oohed and aahed over the boa constrictors and pythons and other large snakes (Halle didn't know what they were called), she strolled by the lizards, giggling when she spotted a fat monitor lizard snoozing on a rock with such a contented-looking face that she almost got sleepy looking at it.

"Comfy, are we?" she smirked, turning and crossing the room, stopping in front of a display of one of the largest iguanas she'd ever seen. The sign marked it as an Antillean iguana.

Staring at the colorful lizard, she jumped when she heard a voice.

"Yeah, stare at Mitch. They all love Mitch."

"Oh, be nice," another voice said. "Mitch isn't all that bad."

She turned, spotting no one nearby. Mum and Dud were across the room reading about a Brazilian python, and there were only a few other people in the reptile house this early in the day.

"Over here, sweetheart," the voice said from Halle's left, and she rounded in the direction of the voice, finding…a display of Arabian horned vipers. The two snakes were peering at Halle, one of them actually winking.

"How you doin', love?"

"Must you flirt with every girl that comes through here?" the other snake…said.

"Oh, get out of it, woman; how often can they actually understand what I'm saying?"

"You're talking," Halle whispered, and the smaller of the two (the male, Halle gathered) dipped its head, and if a snake was capable of sighing in exasperation, this one did it.

"Sharp, this one," he said. The other snake gave him a chiding hiss.

"Be nice," she snapped, turning to Halle. "Have you never talked to a snake before, darling?"

Halle shook her head. "You sound British," she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one saw her talking to snakes. "The card says you're from Arabia."

"Aye, our species is," the male said. "But we were raised in captivity. Nice life, though. Not a lot of space, but we don't have to catch our dinner, at least."

"And how…how am I talking to you?" Halle said.

"You're a Speaker," the female said. "I think your kind call it being a parselmouth."

"I've never heard of parselmouths before," Halle said. "Are there a lot of them?"

The female snake shook her head (which was a disconcerting thing to watch), her tongue flicking out to taste the air.

"I've not met many," she said, "though I can't be sure. Maybe they just don't like to visit the zoo."

"Halle!" Dud called from across the room. "Let's go look at your birds!"

"Birds," the male snake spat. "Think they're so special just 'cause they can _fly_."

"Don't be petty," the female said, turning back to Halle. "Lovely talking to you, dear. Have a wonderful visit."

"Stop back and see us again," the male said as Halle gave them a little wave and caught up with Mum, who reached out and took her hand.

"Making friends, are we, Halle dear?" she said with an amused smile. Halle laughed.

"Apparently."

…

The Snowdon Aviary was gorgeous. An unfathomably huge cage housed entire trees, and quite a few birds were noticeable through the foliage. Watching them fly through the greenery, Halle couldn't stop a small stab of envy and the strangest feeling of nostalgia.

"It must be wonderful to be able to fly like that," she said to Dud, who was similarly fascinated as he leaned against the railing around the cage, sipping at a juice box. He reached the end and continued to pull air through the straw, the juice box shrinking as a loud bubbling sound came from the container. Unable to stop her lips from stretching in a wide smile, she burst into giggles as Dud smirked at her, tossing the box into a nearby rubbish bin.

"I was trying to have a very serious moment here, Dud!" she said through her laughter, and Dud gave her a playful shove.

"Exactly," he said. "Don't want you turning into some philosophical prat."

"Of course," Halle rolled her eyes, falling silent as she stared unseeingly at the enclosure, her thoughts drifting back to the strangeness at the reptile house. Looking back, it seemed almost surreal, tucked away in the cool darkness, conversing with what seemed for all intents to be a married couple of snakes. She wanted to simply write it off as a delusion resulting from lack of sleep, but if she were to have any dreams about talking animals, it would be a bird of some sort. Or a unicorn.

Hey, unicorns were pretty.

Finishing her own juice box, she tossed it to join Dud's, standing.

"Tell mum I'm off to use the loo?"

"I did _not_ need to know that."

"Oh, hush," she stuck her tongue out at him and strolled off. The restrooms were just around a corner, only barely out of sight, so Mum shouldn't have fussed too much about not going with her or as a group or something.

Really, she could be a worrywart.

After a quick trip to the toilet (which are as disgusting as a public restroom can be expected to be), she emerged and caught sight of a bird not a foot away from the cage, staring intently at her.

Her first thought was, _Is this one going to speak to me, too?_

Sadly, it didn't, only flying off as a shadow fell over Halle. She turned and jumped, letting a tiny squeak as she caught sight of a truly intimidating man.

He was tall and spindly, reminding Halle vaguely of a spider, especially with his all-black getup. His skin was pale, clearly wanting for sunlight, and his longish black hair was slightly greasy. He looked down his hooked nose at Halle with something akin to…longing?

Having seen a special about child predators, Halle immediately backed up a few steps, ready to scream at even the slightest indication of ill-intent.

"You will receive a letter in the mail tomorrow," he said, his voice soft and just slightly raspy. "Your…mother will likely not want you to read it. See to it that you do."

"What do you know about my mum?" Halle asked. "Who are you?"

"I was a friend of your real mother," the man said. "It's time you stopped living a lie. Tomorrow, when you get your letter, show it to _her_," he nodded vaguely in the direction that Mum was surely waiting. "Ask for the truth. Tell her if she doesn't tell you, the letters will keep coming."

"My mother is Petunia Evans," Halle all but growled, glaring hatefully up at the man, who only smirked.

"You look exactly like Lily," he said, and then abruptly, he was gone, leaving an empty patch of air where he'd been standing. Looking around, no one seemed to have noticed his abrupt departure. In fact, she noticed no mutterings about the strange man in black or his presence at all.

"Halle!" her mother's voice said, and she recognized the shrill quality all too well. If they were out and about and either of them was out of her sight for more than a few seconds, the frantic search began. Sighing and trying to put the strange man out of her mind, she hurried back to her Mum.

…

Needless to say, as Halle sat alone in her room that night (after a day that would have been thoroughly exhausting even without talking to snakes or meeting a strange man in black), she had quite a bit on her mind. Thus, while The New Kids On The Block serenaded her, she sat on her bed and stared out at the dark street, lost in thought.

Somehow, she was able to communicate with snakes (which possessed remarkable intelligence for creatures with heads the size of her thumb), and according to a mysterious man with the power to disappear at will, she would be getting a strange letter in the mail tomorrow that would perhaps make all of this clear.

It would be a simple matter of slipping out the front door and snagging this letter from the mailbox. After today, Dudley would most likely want to spend tomorrow lazing on the couch and watching cartoons, and old Mrs. Figg rarely spent the whole day babysitting them while Mum was at work these days. Especially now that Dud was eleven, Mum was having to admit that they were old enough to look after themselves, at least during the day.

With the comforting thought of answers coming the next day, she switched off her CD player and settled into her bedclothes, staring up at her ceiling, nervous and excited for what tomorrow might bring.

…

It was a sign of how eager she was for answers that Halle was actually awake before Dudley, who stomped into her room just as she was pulling her shirt on. The sight of his sister's bare back must have broken something in the poor boy, as he only spluttered soundlessly before stepping back and hurrying downstairs.

Maybe that would teach the git to knock next time.

After her morning routine was complete, she made her way downstairs and fixed herself a bowl of cereal, settling into a seat in the dining room to find rain pounding at the window outside. At least Dud had an excuse not to go the park today (like he would anyway). She then retreated back up to her room, where she resumed the New Kids music from last night and dug out the giant tub of Legos she kept in her closet. Whenever she needed a distraction, Legos provided.

Three hours later, she had a twelve-story tower nearly as tall as she was, complete with a ground floor lobby, offices, and a break room on the seventh floor. She was just constructing a water cooler when she glanced at the clock and quickly sprung to her feet, dashing for the door and taking the stairs two at the time. Dud, far too engrossed in whatever daytime talk show he was watching, didn't even notice her full sprint to the front door.

She opened it just in time to see the mail carrier shutting their front gate and heading over to Mrs. Figg's house. Ignoring his perplexed look, she reached into the mailbox and drew out the cluster of letters. Most of them were fan mail that had made it through the chief editor's screening process, and there were a few coupon books as well as an offer for some sort of preapproved credit card. She left all this on the kitchen table, as she spotted the envelope that that mysterious man had told her about.

_Halle Evans_

_131 Cambridge St._

_Littlebourne, Kent_

It was a heavy, yellowed envelope that seemed to be made of old parchment. The lettering was a vivid emerald green color, and the letter was actually sealed with wax imprinted with an ornate crest. It looked like something straight out of a Victorian play or that might change hands at Buckingham palace (perhaps containing a shopping list or duties for the day).

Halle almost felt bad ripping it open.

Almost.

Setting the envelope aside, she unfolded a precisely trifold piece of (surprise) more parchment and read.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL __of__ WITCHCRAFT __and__ WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizar__ds)_

_Dear Miss Evans,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Completely perplexed, she moved on to the second page.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL __of __WITCHCRAFT __and__ WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM _

_First-year students will require: _

_1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) _

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags. _

This was followed by a list of the strangest course books she'd ever read, including _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_, _A History of Magic_, _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_, and others.

"That's it?" she said to herself, turning the letters over, looking for anything else, perhaps a quick paragraph explaining how she was able to talk to snakes, maybe a handwritten message from the mysterious man in black. She would've settled for a message from Dud confirming that this was all some elaborate prank. She would've been inclined to believe the last part, but Dud lacked the forethought, and he would never go to so much trouble just for a prank.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…. Well, Hogwarts sounded silly, but witchcraft and wizardry sure rang true for some of the stuff she'd been witness to. Maybe talking to snakes had been some kind of magic trick. And magic would sure explain her frequent ability to suddenly be somewhere miles away from danger.

In fact, a lot of the oddities she'd been privy to in her ten short years of life could be quickly justified by magic.

The rest of the strange man's message came back to her.

"_I was a friend of your real mother…. Ask for the truth."_

Maybe no one was pranking her, but the man in black seemed to be under the impression that Mum knew more than she was letting on.

Absently, she found herself wishing that the stranger had at least had the decency to introduce himself. Constantly calling him the man in black was giving her an unshakable urge to listen to some Johnny Cash music.

At least it would let her kill some time until Mum got home.

…

Humming a few bars to Walk the Line, Halle twirled her spaghetti around her plate, too nervous from the imminent confrontation with her mother to really eat. Dud had finished his second helping and was trying to convince his mum that a third was in order, but she adamantly refused.

"Something wrong, Halle?" Mum asked while Dudley sulked. "You haven't touched your food."

"I'll take it if – "

"Dudley Michael Evans."

Falling silent, Dudley huffed as Halle bit her lip, hunching her shoulders nervously and staring up at her Mum.

"I got a letter in the post today," she said. "From a school called Hogwarts."

The change in her mother's demeanor was alarming; she went from an understanding smile to pale as a sheet, eyes wide with alarm, her fork falling to her plate with a clatter.

"Dudley, go to your room," she said.

"But, Mum – "

"Now," she said, and though she didn't yell, Dud flinched back, shooting Halle a sympathetic look and scurrying from the room. Halle knew fully well that he wouldn't go all the way to his room. No doubt he would be eavesdropping from a safe distance.

When the two were fairly alone, her Mum sighed, placing her forehead in her hand and shaking her head.

"You've read it, I suppose?" she asked, and Halle nodded, though obviously, Mum didn't see it.

"Yes," she added, hating the quiver of fear in her voice. "Mum, are you angry?"

"Yes," her mum admitted. "But not at you. I'm just…tired of them taking away the ones I love."

"'Them'?" Halle asked.

"Witches, wizards, and that…Albus Dumbledore."

"His name was on my letter," Halle said. "He's the headmaster of Hogwarts?"

Her mother said nothing, though Halle thought she saw a teardrop fall to the table. She got up and moved to her mother's side, wrapping her arms around Mum's shoulders and nestling against her shoulders.

"Mummy?"

"I don't want them to take you, too, Halle. What if we just forgot this and…you went to school with Dudley next year, like always?"

"But…. Mum, if I'm a wizard or witch or something, I…I want to learn how to use it," Halle said. "And, anyway, I saw this man at the zoo. He said – "

"What man?" her mother asked sharply, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "What did he look like?"

Briefly, Halle recounted her cryptic conversation with the man she'd come to identify as Cash, simply because he wore black.

"Sounds like that boy that – from a long time ago."

"You've met him?" Halle asked, her mind struggling to catch up. "Mum, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Halle, dear…."

"He said the letters would keep coming, Mum," Halle said. "Please, don't…. If there's something I need to know, I want to know what it is. It won't change anything. You're my Mum, and if I have to…go away for a while, I'll always come back. You and Dud, I…would never abandon you."

That got a small smile from her mum. "She said the same thing."

"Who?"

Heaving a deep sigh, Mum said those fateful words.

"Your mother."

…

Halle learned the whole story that night, or as much as Mum knew anyway.

Mum. Even if she was really Halle's aunt, she was still Mum. When she said that, her mum started crying all over again, wrapping her arms around Halle.

Nearly ten years ago, Halle's witch and wizard parents, James and Lily Potter had been murdered by an evil wizard for reasons unknown. For reasons even more unknown, the same dark wizard had turned his wand on Halle and attempted to murder her as well, but the curse rebounded and struck down the man called Voldemort instead. Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, which both of her parents had attended, and a close friend of the Potters', had left Halle with Vernon and Petunia Dursley, the girl's last living blood family.

This was where her mum really started crying.

Vernon, a staunch hater of anything that didn't fit in his narrow worldview, had originally confined the child to a cupboard under the stairs, content to let the "little freak" bawl her eyes out until it was "feeding time". Petunia had gone along with this for almost two years until one day, it was her turn to feed little Halle, and the full realization of the situation had struck her. As she'd stared into the baby face that looked exactly like her little sister's, the full weight of the loss had finally struck her, and she'd fallen to her knees.

"I just couldn't do it anymore," her mum told Halle. "Every time I looked at you, every time I still look at you, I see your mother. My sister. And I remember what it was like, before…. We were everything to each other. And I couldn't watch you suffer anymore. To do that to Lily, to disgrace her memory like that…."

When Vernon had gotten home from work, Petunia had beseeched her husband to allow Halle a room of her own and treat her a little more humanely, but Vernon had put his foot down.

"He called you a freak and a monster, claimed that if you weren't blood, he would've tossed you on the street long ago," Mum explained. "I said that you looked just like my sister, that you were my blood. He lost it. He stuck a padlock on the door and hid the only key. He said 'Let the freak starve. Let her use her magic to save herself.' He…. I'm sure he lost his mind that night."

"What did you do?" Halle whispered.

"I called the police," her mum replied. "Vernon was arrested and thrown in jail. He died in prison about a year later."

"And you…adopted me?"

Her mum nodded. "I felt I owed it to Lily after treating her so horribly, and…I wouldn't have been able to live with myself, looking at you day after day. You look exactly like Lily. You were a constant reminder of her, and I was tired of feeling guilty."

"You've no reason to feel guilty, Mum," Halle said, feeling her own eyes stinging. "You're such a great mother."

She smiled, leaning in and kissing Halle on the forehead. "And you're a fantastic daughter. I just…. When you're mother went to Hogwarts, she was never the same. She came back going on about potions and transfiguring mice into teacups and back again, and…I suppose I was jealous. I wanted so much to learn magic to, but I didn't have what she had. Maybe if I had, things would've gone differently."

"Oh," Halle fell silent at that. Did that mean Mum was jealous of her, too? She felt a little bad. If she looked just like Lily, and now _she_ was getting a Hogwarts letter, her mum must be reliving the past all over again. Come to think of it, how was Dudley going to take this?

She felt her mother's fingers toying with a lock of her red hair.

"Listen, Halle," she said. "Whatever happens, I'm so proud of you. I was proud of your mum, but I let my jealousy get the better of that. Now I realize how frightened she must have been, how terrible she must have felt leaving everything behind. But at the same time, there's this strange new world inviting you in, and that's amazing."

"It _is_," Halle said. "Mum, I have to go. If I don't, I'll always wonder. I'll always want to know how it could have gone."

"I understand, sweetie," Mum said. "But see things from my point of view. When my sister went off into this world, she…died. Not right away, but they took her from me. I don't want to lose you, too."

Halle crawled into her Mum's lap and wrapped her arms around her.

"I promise I'll come back, Mum," she said, putting every bit of meaning she could in the statement. "I promise."

…

The next day, an owl arrived, swooping in as Dudley went to get the mail and terrifying him to pieces. The bird swooped through the entryway and landed on the kitchen table, peering expectantly at the family.

"Mum! There's an owl in the house!"

"I can see that, Dudley," Mum said patiently, sighing and removing a letter attached to the bird's leg. "Do stay," she said to the bird. "We haven't exactly had a chance to buy a post owl."

"They send letters by owl?" Halle asked while a bemused Dudley watched the scene in absolute confusion.

"Yes," Mum replied, pulling out a pen and paper and scribbling down a letter. "When Lily first started, we'd get owls nearly every week. It's neat at first, but the novelty wears off."

Halle had time to read the letter before Mum folded it up and stuffed it in a regular paper envelope, attaching it to the owl's leg.

_Dear Mr. Dumbledore,_

_My daughter, Halle Evans, has received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, and we thank you for your diligence in ensuring it gets to her. We will be traveling to Diagon Alley today to purchase her supplies._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Petunia Evans_

"What's Diagonally?"

"Diagon Alley," Mum corrected her. "It's where we'll be buying your school supplies."

"What are you two going on about?" Dudley asked. "And what was that with the owl?"

Sighing, Mum glanced at Halle before standing. "Dudders, come to the sitting room. We need to talk."

…

It was a subdued trip to London (for the second time in two days, which Mum grumbled about briefly, along with contemplations of sending a petrol bill to Hogwarts) for the two Evans women. Dudley had been instructed to stay behind, as he was what wizards called a muggle, or a non-magic person; the only reason Mum would be tolerated was because she was Halle's guardian.

He'd taken that news about as well as being told Halle was a witch and would be going to a magic boarding school in Scotland instead of grammar school with him. Rather than shouting, as Halle had been afraid he would do, he'd simply fallen silent and gone to watch his cartoons. Even when the two had bidden him farewell, he'd said nothing.

"I'll talk to him," Mum said as they drove. "I went through the same thing he is right now, having to watch someone he loves go off to a strange and fantastic place. Don't you feel bad at all, though," she added hastily.

Like she could help it.

…

This was the gateway to the magical side of London? This dingy pub whose only notable quality was its innocuousness (a word Halle was proud she knew the meaning of) filled with shabbily-dressed men talking about quidditch or bands she'd never even heard of before?

She'd expected some sort of stone archway flanked by Merlin statues and guarded by a dragon or something. Though, thinking about it, hiding something like that in the middle of London would be rather difficult.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she strode up to the counter and smiled at the toothless old man behind the counter. He was stooped with age and had only a few wispy gray hairs left, but he had a kindly glint in his eyes as he smiled down at Halle.

"Hogwarts, right?" he said. "Muggle-born?"

"Sort of," Halle said, pointing back at Mum. "My Mum's a muggle."

"Where's your father, darling?" the man said, moving out from behind the counter and gesturing for the pair to follow.

"He's…gone…."

"Oh," the man said, falling short. "Sorry 'bout that. Now look here," he said, pulling what was unmistakably a magic wand from his pocket and pointing it at a brick. "Three up from the bin, two across from here. And, tap."

He did so, and the wall seemed to fold away from the point his wand touched, bricks slipping back and rolling in on themselves to form an arch revealing one of the most crowded streets Halle had ever seen. Men, women, children, elves, the occasional goblin, and countless animals of all shape and size milled around, forming a turbulent crowd that made Halle sure Mum would have a death grip on her wrist for nearly the entire trip.

Sure enough, as the innkeeper welcomed them to Diagon Alley and stepped back into his pub, Mum reached down the gripped her arm.

"Shall we?"

…

Before any shopping could happen, the pair found their way to Gringotts bank, the only wizard bank in London and considered the safest one in existence. According to Mum, this was where they would have to exchange their muggle money for wizard money. Halle thought it was a bid odd that they didn't just all use the same currency, but perhaps that was just the way of things.

Thankfully, Gringotts cut quite a distinctive profile, the white marble building sticking out prominently amongst the redbrick and smoky gray buildings, gleaming in the noonday sun. With the towering bank acting as their beacon, they waded into the sea of people, Halle for once glad that Mum had such a strong grip. A few times the pair was buffeted and almost separated by a passing witch or wizard, but her mother's grip remained firm.

Halle wished she had about four more sets of eyes as they passed stalls of potion ingredients, cauldron shops, alchemy supply stores, a magical beastiary (with the most gorgeous owls ever), and a bookstore with some of the most curious books Halle had ever seen. As they passed, a store associate stood looking quite bored as he supervised a book that was currently reading itself to the crowd.

One store caught Halle's eye, and she stopped dead before being tugged along again, staring in fascination at the window display of broomsticks. These brooms clearly weren't for sweeping the floor, though.

"Mum, I want a broom," Halle said.

"A br – no. Absolutely not. You wouldn't even be able to take it to school anyway."

Vaguely, she remembered the very bold-faced all-capital-letters statement from the supply list:

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS**

What a buzz kill.

…

A goblin showed them into Gringotts.

At first, Halle thought it was some equal-opportunity publicity stunt, or the bank had hired a goblin for tax reasons, but when they entered the bank proper, it was to find dozens, hundreds, of goblins lining a long desk in the enormous hall. Along the walls, innumerable doors led deeper into the bank, and even more goblins were showing the occasional witch or wizard in or out.

"Goblins handle the money?" Halle whispered as they approached the desk.

"Watch your back," Mum said. "They don't look the nicest sort."

"Right."

They approached a goblin at random, Halle stepping forward and actually having to stand on tiptoes just to peer at the goblin over the desk. Why did such a short race need such unreasonably high desks?

"Um, pardon me," she said, and the goblin looked up, then down at her. "I'm, um, Halle Evans."

"Evans," the goblin said, withdrawing a massive tome and setting it in front of him. The pages seemed to flip through themselves before the book shut with a little flump. "No accounts under that name."

A sudden thought struck Halle. "Try Potter?"

The goblin blinked. "Halle Potter?" He studied her, his eyes darting to where her scar was hidden away, and she reluctantly pulled up her head band to show it to him. "Hm. A moment, please." He tapped an instrument on his counter, which hummed and whirred, a small light blinking before it flashed green. "Everything's in order, then. Griphook!"

Another goblin rushed over, giving them a bow.

"Show Miss Potter to her vault and see that she gets the key. And Miss Potter," he said, looking to Halle. "Mind you don't lose the key. They're dreadfully hard to replace."

"Thank you," Halle said as Griphook led them deeper into the bank.

…

For Halle's tenth birthday, Mum had taken her and Dudley to see Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Gringotts bank reminded her unpleasantly of the temple.

Rather than more white marble, the deeper parts of the bank were quite a treacherous cave system accessible only by the most nerve-wracking cart ride ever. Granted, it was fun, rather like the roller coasters at the amusement park from Dudley's tenth birthday, but there were no seat restraints, so the fun was tempered by a sizable dose of concern for one's life.

Once the ride stopped (and Mum lost the green tinge to her complexion), the trio climbed from the cart and approached a metal door twice again as tall as Halle. The goblin produced a key and unlocked the door, which swung in on its own, revealing a jaw-dropping pile of gold.

"Oh, my…."

"Goodness," Mum finished for her, stepping forward.

"This is mine?" Halle asked the goblin, who nodded.

"Your school fund, set up by your parents the moment they found out Mrs. Potter was pregnant."

"Look at that, Mum," Halle said, smiling up at her mother. "School supplies for the next seven years, bought and paid for."

She smiled, her eyes shining a bit. "Should've known Lily would look out for you like this."

…

Their first stop (at Halle's insistence) was to buy a wand.

"Mum, if I'm to be a proper witch, I need a wand before anything else!"

It took them only a few minutes to stop a passing wizard (a kindly old man with a beard that went past his belt) and ask them the nearest place to buy wands.

"Ah, starting Hogwarts this year, young lady?" the man asked, smiling genially down.

"Yes, sir."

"And polite," he said, leaning down. "You listen to me, now. Don't let any of them tell you that just because your parents are muggles that you can't cast circles around them. My wife is a muggleborn, and she can kick my butt in a duel like no other."

Halle giggled, and the man gave her a wink, standing and turning to Mum. "Now, for wands, you'll want Ollivander's. The man's an artist. You go down two blocks, make a left, and look for the sign. Can't miss it."

"Thank you so much," Mum said. The man tipped his hat and bade them farewell, disappearing into the crowd.

"People here are nice," Halle said as they wended their way through the crowd.

"Some of them are," Mum said, "but you be careful. Lily told me that the wizard world is just like the muggle world. There are kind people, but there are some rotten eggs out there, too."

"Yes, mother," Halle said, rolling her eyes. Mum quirked an eyebrow and poked her daughter in the forehead with a smile.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, young lady," she said as they turned down the side street that would take them to Ollivander's. "I'm your mother. I'm supposed to worry about you."

"And I'm supposed to cause you no end of trouble," Halle shot back, sticking her tongue out at her Mum.

They spotted the shop and stepped inside. Instantly, Halle was reminded of a library; the dead silence, the dusty smell of old things, and the shelves after shelves rowed behind the counter, though she noticed that instead of books, the floor-to-ceiling structures were stacked with small boxes, presumably holding wands.

A bell chimed somewhere deep in the distance as the pair entered. A single spindly stool sat in front of the counter, which Mum took while Halley stood at the counter.

"Um…. Hello?"

From among the shelves, a man stepped up to the counter, fixing large silvery eyes on Halle, who was immediately reminded of an owl. The man's silver hair stood straight up, fanning out from his head and looking remarkably like a tuft of feathers. He didn't seem to blink as often as someone should, Halle thought, and his eyes never left her as he moved around the counter.

"Halle Potter."

"Evans," Halle corrected him, and he smiled, giving a slight bow.

"Forgive me, Miss Evans," he said, holding a hand out. "I am Garrick Ollivander. I've been wondering when I would be seeing you come through here."

"How did you know who I was?" Halle asked. Ollivander smiled.

"You are the spitting image of your mother," he said, leaning in remarkably close, and Halle had to wonder if wizards had any concept of personal space. "I remember her visit well. Ten and a quarter inches. Willow. Very swishy. Excellent for charm work. Your father, though…." He leaned closer, and Halle froze nervously, not wanting to be the one to back down in case this was some sort of test to figure out what wand she would get. "Mahogany, eleven inches long, and quite pliable, as I recall. Excellent for transfiguration."

She had to stop herself from cringing away as one of Ollivander's long bony fingers slipped under her pink headband and tugged it away to expose the scar on her forehead.

"And that's where…."

"If you're finished manhandling my daughter, could we get down to business?" Mum said, and even Halle was frightened by the ice in her voice, though she wanted to thank her mother profusely when Ollivander drew away.

"Apologies, Miss Evans," he said. "I merely feel some responsibility. I crafted the wand that created that scar. Yew, thirteen and a half inches. Very powerful. I couldn't have known that it would decide to take such a dark path when I made it."

"Decide?" Halle asked.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Evans. They are powerful magical objects, but one should never consider them tools. Now," he gave a soft clap of his hands. "Let's see which one decides to go home with you. Which is your wand arm, young lady?"

"I'm right-handed, if that's what you mean."

"Very good," he said, pulling out a tape measure. "Hold your arm out, if you please, nice and straight." Halle did as advised, and Ollivander measured her arm. Then her forearm. Then the length of her index finger, from her knee up to her armpit, from her shoulder to the floor. As he measured, he spoke.

"Each wand contains a powerful magical substance at its core, Miss Evans. Here at Ollivander's, we use dragon heartstrings, unicorn hairs, or phoenix tail feathers. No two wands are exactly the same, though some can be considered siblings if their cores come from the same animal. And as I said, the wand chooses the wizard; should you attempt to use a wand that is loyal to another witch or wizard, it will not yield the same results as your own. It may not cooperate at all."

He rounded the counter to collect a few boxes, and Halle realized that the tape measure was now measuring on its own, recording the distance between her nostrils. Just as she was marveling at how very attentive to detail wizards were, the tape measure dropped with a wordless command from the wandmaker.

"Now, let's get started shall we?"

Halle lost count of how many wands she waved. Beech, maple, ebony, applewood, oak, pine, cypress, cedar, redwood, with so many parts of so many dragons, unicorns, and phoenixes that Halle had to wonder if there were any left alive in the world. At one point, Ollivander tried a wand with a beard hair from Albus Dumbledore that he'd made "during an odd time in my life", though to no avail.

Finally, when the pile of reject wands was threatening to topple onto the floor and Halle was beginning to experience a bit of tennis elbow, Ollivander perked up.

"Hmm…. Perhaps…." He wandered into the back and came back with quite an old-looking box, opening it and passing the wand to Halle, who felt a warmth shoot up her arm, the cramp in her elbow disappearing immediately as she gave it a wave, sending a shower of green sparks in a mini fireworks display that lit up the room. Mum smiled and gave her a little round of applause, which Ollivander joined in.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful!" he said, looking immensely satisfied. "Albeit curious."

"Why curious?" Halle asked as Ollivander boxed up the wand and rang it up on the ancient till on his counter.

"Eleven inches. Holly and phoenix feather. An odd combination, but quite supple. It's very curious that that wand should choose you, when its brother gave you that scar," he gestured at the scar now concealed beneath Halle's headband.

Halle felt a chill down her spine. Voldemort's wand had had a feather from the same phoenix that hers did? Maybe this wand was trying to make up for its brother's mistakes? It felt strange, thinking of a wand as sentient, or at least slightly so. She amused herself with a brief mental image of the wand giving her advice on how to wave it to get the best results from a spell.

Her mind was wandering.

She paid for her wand, and the pair left the shop, Halle more excited than ever to actually get to Hogwarts and cast some spells.

…

The next several hours were a blur as they wandered through Diagon Alley, first to buy course books at Flourish and Blotts (where Halle also picked up a few contemporary history books to learn a bit more about this world she would be inhabiting). Next was the apothecary, where she picked up all of her potion ingredients (some of which made her gag thinking about; beetle eyes and newt tails). Madame Malkin's (where the plump witch herself fitted Halle with her school robes) was followed by a trip to pick up a solid pewter cauldron.

As they were leaving the alley, Halle's feet protesting vehemently to their extended use for the second time in three days, Halle once again found herself stopping outside of Eeylops Owl Emporium, her eyes landing on the most beautiful snowy owl ever. As her eyes took in the beautiful plumage, the owl turned a pair of amber eyes on her, staring at her levelly.

"Mum," she breathed. "I want it."

…

As she lazed on her bed that night, Halle could scarcely make herself move after the excitement of the day. On the one hand, she was elated that she'd finally got a taste of the magical world, even gotten a magic wand, and found out that her parents had left her a small fortune for her school fund.

On the other hand, though, her legs were killing her. Yesterday had apparently not been enough time to recover her legs completely from their extended exercise at the London Zoo the day before.

And Dud was still distant. Halle had tried numerous times to engage him in conversation throughout supper, but his answers had been terse, and he'd excused himself to his room immediately after. She tried to put herself in his shoes, imagine if Dudley had been the one to get his Hogwarts letter and she would be left behind. She had to admit that he had at least an understandable reason to be upset. But at the same time, Dudley would be going back to school this year with a bunch of his primary school friends. Familiar people in a familiar place, and he would get to come home to Mum every night.

Halle would be locked away in a castle in Scotland for ten months with Hedwig the owl her only connection to home.

She'd come across the name Hedwig in one of her textbooks, glanced up at the owl, and determined that the name was just too perfect. Thus, the owl was Hedwig.

Sighing, Halle switched off her bedside lamp and settled into her sheets. Maybe Dud just needed to sleep on it.

Everything would probably be better in the morning.

…

Strangely enough, everything _was_ better in the morning. Waking to the sight of Hedwig just settling in for the morning, she wished her owl a pleasant sleep and stumbled from her bed.

Mum was working again today and had told the two children last night that she would need to stay extra late due to yesterday's unplanned shopping trip. Some movie star had apparently been caught with her pool boy in a romantic tryst, despite being married, and Mum's coverage of the fallout had been given the cover of the next issue of the magazine as well as a two page spread. It was, as she called it, a career-defining moment.

Thus, Halle would likely be preparing dinner. She knew her way around the kitchen and could throw together a few passable meals, though they were never up to Mum's fare.

She was stepping out of the bathroom, pondering maybe just throwing together grilled cheese sandwiches, when she literally walked straight into Dud.

"Oi, space-cadet," Dud said, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Come back down to earth."

"Sorry, Dud," Halle said with a little smile. "Are you…not mad at me anymore?"

He sighed. "I wasn't mad at you, Hal." She smiled the nickname that _only_ he could get away with. "I was…I guess I was jealous, but Mum talked to me. Said that just because you were born magic and I wasn't, I shouldn't be mad at you. So…I hope your Hogwarts thing turns out okay."

Feeling a lump in her throat, Halle could only blink the tears from her eyes as she struck, wrapping her arms around her brother. "You'll always be my favorite big brother, Dud."

"I'm your only big brother, you madwoman," Dud said, his voice muffled through her hair, and Halle giggled.

"You're still my favorite."

* * *

Feedback would be quite appreciated. I have a few chapters written, but I wanna see how this is received before I do anything else.

Review, please.


	2. Chapter 2

Reception was very much positive to this story, which is always a nice stroke to the ego. A Door Ajar is going to be going on a temporary hiatus while I execute a fairly massive rewrite of the first few chapters, since playing it by ear when writing stories tends to open up plot threads or establish points that one comes to regret when writing later chapters. I'll definitely work to avoid that with this story, though.

Anyway, read on!

* * *

The next few weeks blurred together into a haze of lazy summer days spent watching television, constructing and destroying vast Lego empires, trying to top each other's scores at Mario, and generally wasting time the way only a child could. Halle's birthday came and went with a trip to the local shopping center, though Halle didn't buy much in the way of clothing, since she would be wearing her school uniform for five days a week for the next ten months.

Hogwarts loomed ever-present in her thoughts, a source of both nigh-uncontainable excitement and crippling apprehension. She'd gone over the list of hypotheticals in her head with such frequency that she was literally all worried out. She just couldn't bring herself to wonder again what would happen if she turned out to just be terrible at magic, if no one liked her, if it turned out to be some creepy cultist group that wanted her to drink "blood-drink" or something.

She consoled herself with the fact that James and Lily Potter had made it through all seven years and apparently done quite well for themselves.

Another distracting source of thought exercise was ponderings on her birth parents. Petunia Evans would always be Mum to her, but she still wanted to know a little about her biological parents. She didn't want to ask Mum for fear of dredging up more bad memories, and the only other person she'd met that seemed to know anything about them was the man she'd dubbed Cash, the strange black-garbed man that had approached her at the zoo.

She could only hope she would have an opportunity to meet him. Maybe he actually worked at Hogwarts.

Soon, it was time to find out. Thirty-one August was a flurry of rain outside and frantic packing of robes, spell books, owl treats, and several notebooks for letters home.

At least Hedwig would get plenty of exercise.

She was just managing to stuff a few normal clothes in her trunk (just in case) when Dud walked in. Ever since their reconciliation, he'd been quieter than normal, but Halle hadn't felt any sort of animosity from him. A slightly conceited part of Halle wanted to think that he was pondering life without her for a school term.

"Oi," he said, tossing something at her. She blinked but managed to catch it. Opening her hand, she saw that it was a rather simple necklace. "Wear that."

"Gosh, Dud, I'm flattered, but we're brother and sister," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him, and Dud's face went pink.

"Oh, shut it," he said. "It's from the school after our team finished first in the league."

On closer inspection, she did spot an engraving of a football along with the words _D. Evans, #33, '90 – '91._

"It's nothing special, but I thought it'd be something to remember home by, you know," he said as Halle smiled, fastening it around her neck.

"I'll wear it proudly," she said with a grin, and Dud smirked back.

"Good."

…

"Ready, sweetie?"

"I just…run at it?"

"Yes. That's what your grandparents told me. Run at the wall between nine and ten."

"Are you…certain? It looks very solid."

"Magic can be very convincing."

"I'll run at it – "

"Dudley Evans, you stay here," Mum said, grabbing Dud by the shoulder. "It's alright, Halle. You go, and you have a wonderful year. And if it doesn't work out, you write me, and I'll be at the station ready to bring you home."

"Mum, you're not exactly filling me with confidence, here," Halle said, wondering how so many very nervous butterflies had found their way into her stomach. Blimey, that wall looked _solid_.

"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time, darling," Mum said, patting her shoulder. Nodding, Halle bit her lip, then latched onto her mum in a hug.

"I'll miss both of you," she said, pulling away, turning to Dud, who held his hands up.

"Hey, I got a hug from you once already," he said. "That's enough for the year."

Sticking her tongue out at him, Halle turned, made one last check to ensure Hedwig's cage was attached to her trolley, and took off before she started bawling right there in the station.

According to the Hogwarts letters, the Hogwarts Express departed from King's Cross (yet another trip all the way to London) at eleven sharp the morning of one September. Much to Halle's surprise when she'd read the letter, it apparently departed from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Mum had explained that access to this platform was achieved by running straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten.

_Sometimes I think they're just weird for the sake of it_, Halle mused, clenching her eyes shut as she reached the wall and ran into…nothing.

Skidding to a stop, she opened her eyes and gasped.

A magnificent scarlet steam engine sat at the platform, belching steam over a teeming crowd of kids and teenagers (and a few parents). Adding to the din of chatter were the sounds of screeching owls, belching toads, and the occasional angry hiss of a cat. Once, Halle thought she heard the sound of an elephant, though it turned out to be a boy demonstrating some sort of spell he'd learned.

Rolling up to a carriage at random, she made no attempt to manually heave the trunk into the luggage compartment (her efforts would likely be rewarded with a very sore back and little else), instead covertly pulling her wand from her pocket and casting one of the many spells she'd come across in her books.

"_Wingardium leviosa_," she whispered, pleased when the trunk hovered the critical few inches she needed to give it a push and let it slide easily into the compartment. Giggling silently at her first successful use of magic to actually accomplish something (rather than amuse herself late at night when she couldn't sleep), she shut the compartment and turned, jumping when she saw a boy directly behind her.

"Oh!" she stepped back. The boy had sharp features and pale skin, though it stopped just before looking sickly. His white-blonde hair gleamed in the sun, slicked back with what Halle deemed just a bit too much hair product.

"Sorry," he said, smiling. "I was on my way over to help, but it looks like you've figured it out."

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome," Halle said, holding her wand up with a flourish before dropping it. "Most of the time."

Chuckling, the blonde boy stooped and picked up her wand, handing it back to her. "Ought to make sure you keep track of that," he said. "A witch isn't much without her wand. Nice hover charm, by the way."

"Thank you," Halle smiled. "I've been practicing from the moment I got my wand. I was raised muggle, so I reckon I've got a bit of catching up to do."

"I think you'll do alright," the boy said, gesturing toward the train. "But maybe we should find a seat?"

They climbed onto the train, the boy peering into a few compartments as they passed before stopping at one. "Aha," he said, opening the door and stepping back to allow Halle in.

"Thank you, sir," Halle said with a smile, stepping in to find two boys already situated in seats, chatting about quidditch, which Halle had gathered was a sport played on broomstick, but she didn't know the specifics. "Um, hello there."

"That's Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. Just call them Crabbe and Goyle. Oh, and I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Do I call you Malfoy?" Halle asked, smiling as she sat and placed Hedwig's cage on the seat beside her. Draco Malfoy smiled again.

"_You_ can call me Draco," he said, sitting next to her. "And what do you call yourself?"

"Oh, I'm Halle Evans."

"Nice to meet you, Halle Evans," Draco said, settling back in his seat. Halle smiled, glad to actually meet some friendly people. Just as she was about to say something else, the train lurched beneath them, and Draco turned to look out the window.

"Off we go," he said.

…

"So, are you just starting Hogwarts as well?" Halle asked after a brief silence in which everyone settled in for the long train ride. Draco nodded.

"All of us are," he said. "What house do you think you'll be in? We're hoping for Slytherin."

"House…?" Halle blinked, cursing her ignorance of a world she was supposedly born into. At Draco's confused look, she gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Like I said, I was raised by muggles after my birth parents, um…were killed."

"That must've been awful," Draco said.

"Well, I was only one when they died, and my aunt is a wonderful woman," Halle said. "But she…didn't want me to go away at first, so she didn't tell me about magic or anything. I know about as much as a muggle-born."

"Well, then we'll teach you," Draco said with a little nod toward Crabbe and Goyle. "Or I will. Crabbe and Goyle…. I'm not sure they know how to read," he said in a stage whisper, and Halle giggled.

"That's not very nice!" she said through her laughter. Crabbe and Goyle, though, only blinked, and Halle had to wonder if there wasn't some truth to his little joke. "Anyway, what are houses? Besides what people live in," she added.

"Hogwarts students are sorted into four Houses," Draco explained. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. But, ask me, Slytherin's the best. Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad, but Gryffindor's just a bunch of arrogant lunkheads who go on about honor and bravery but wouldn't know common sense if it bit them in the ass."

Halle laughed, slightly awed; she'd never dared to utter a swear word. Mum would murder her! "What about Hufflepuff?"

"Oh, they're just a bunch of nobodies," he said. "No ambition; all they do is sit around and preach about the power of _friendship_. They turn out some of the least successful wizards ever."

"Oh," Halle said. "Well, I want to get good at magic."

"Maybe you'll get put in Slytherin," Draco said. "All the most successful wizards do. My whole family's been in Slytherin as far back as we can remember."

Well, she wanted to be successful, of course. And if Draco's family had turned out a polite boy like him, Slytherin must do something right. "So, do you pick your house?"

"No, no," Draco said. "There's a sorting ceremony. You put on a hat, and it decides."

"It decides?" Halle repeated. "As in, it picks your house for you? A hat?"

"Of course," Draco said. "It's not like some common muggle hat that you just stick on your head. Godric Gryffindor enchanted it to decide which house students should go to. Each founder told the hat what to look for in students. Salazar Slytherin wanted only the best."

She had to inwardly roll her eyes a bit at the Slytherin fervor, but she supposed it was like having a favorite sports team or something. "So, have you figured out many spells?" she asked. Draco shrugged.

"A few. You ought to watch out using magic if you live in a muggle house, though. After this year, they'll have a trace on you. If you use magic in a muggle area, the Ministry of Magic will find out, and you'll get sent a letter. Get caught too many times, and you could even get expelled."

Halle blinked. "That's annoying."

Draco nodded. "A bit. But the Ministry doesn't want the muggles to know what we are. Imagine if they found out; they'd probably riot and demand we fix all their problems for them, or try to kill all of us because we don't fit into their views of 'normal'."

Given her mum's and Dud's reactions to finding out about the magic world (despite the fact that they eventually came around), she could imagine the less tolerant muggles would be a little miffed knowing about the secret world that could accomplish things muggles couldn't attempt in their wildest dreams.

"Still, not all muggles are bad," she said. "My family's alright, and a lot of my friends from my muggle school are nice."

Draco looked unconvinced, but only shrugged. "I'll take your word for it," was all he said.

They lapsed into comfortable silence, Halle glancing around as Draco unearthed a magazine from a bag he'd brought along. She caught the title _Quidditch Weekly_.

"You're a quidditch fan?" Halle said, and Draco looked up.

"You've heard of it?" he asked, and Halle shrugged sheepishly.

"I don't know much about it," she said, which was all the prompting Draco needed to launch into a lengthy explanation about quidditch teams, the number of players, the three different balls used, positions, even his favorite professional team, the Caerphilly Catapults.

"They haven't made it to the World Cup in a few years, but I'm not giving up on them," he said as a voice sounded in the corridor.

"Anything from the trolley!? Aaaaaanything from the trolley!?"

A plump old woman was pushing a large cart of snacks and sweets up the corridor. All four of them glanced toward the voice (though Crabbe and Goyle looked particularly interested; it probably took a lot of food to be that…healthy), Halle reaching into her pockets to produce a handful of sickles.

She expected that wizard snacks would be slightly different from muggle ones, maybe a wider variety of magically produced flavors or color-changing candy bars, and she wasn't disappointed. Cauldron Cakes, Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans (literally every flavor, over 200, as the box boasted), Licorice Wands, Chocolate Frogs (which shuffled around in the box, leaving Halle to suspect that they behaved like real frogs), and numerous others. Unable to decide, she simply bought one of each. Draco seemed to favor something called Pumpkin Pasties, and Chocolate Frogs, as he bought a substantial stack of each of them. Crabbe and Goyle simply grabbed handfuls of everything within reach, which Malfoy wordlessly paid for with his own gold, doing the same when the trolley lady gave Halle her total.

"Oh, thank you, but – "

"No buts," Malfoy said, gesturing Halle back into the compartment. "It's my father's money anyway, so thank him."

Smiling, Halle took her seat. "Perhaps I'll write him a letter once we get to Hogwarts. It'd be Hedwig's first delivery."

Draco ripped open a Chocolate Frog, which leapt out of the box, sailing through the air. "Oh, damn it," he said while Halle reached out, snatching it from the air and popping it into her mouth. Draco smirked at her. "That was mine," he said.

"Mine now," she said with a wink, swallowing the chocolate. Draco quirked an eyebrow, suddenly lunging and reaching around Halle to grab one of her Chocolate Frogs. Laughing, she tried to grab his wrist and retrieve the snack, but the movement sent them tumbling to the floor, rolling until Draco had managed to wrench his wrist away, moving to a sitting position and waving the box tauntingly at Halle.

"Mine now," he repeated back at her, and Halle stuck her tongue out at him.

"Prat."

A knock sounded on the door, which slid open to reveal a stock, round-faced, blonde boy who had the unfortunate look of someone who was always down on his luck.

"Has anyone seen, um…oh," he paused, and only then did Halle realize that she was practically sitting in Draco's lap; their scuffle had apparently left them in a bit of a compromising position. "Sorry, I'll just – "

"No, it's okay," Halle said, scrambling to her feet. Behind her, Draco clambered to a stand as well. "Have we seen what?"

"A toad?" Neville finished, his face flushed. "Um, I've lost mine."

"You have a pet _toad_?" Draco asked, laughter in his voice. "Who still has those these days?"

"Be nice," Halle admonished him, and Draco shrugged but fell silent, going back to his stack of Chocolate Frogs. "We haven't. Sorry. Want help finding it?"

"Oh, there's a girl helping me out already," the boy said. "Thanks, though." He gave Draco one last fearful look and retreated. Halle took her seat next to Draco, who shook his head.

"A _toad_," he muttered, falling silent at Halle's disapproving look.

…

As the afternoon wore on, Halle discovered a few things about Draco Malfoy. He came from one of the oldest pureblood families in existence, and as such, he had a bit of an arrogant streak. His family was rich but generous, apparently, donating to numerous charitable organizations, including the wizard hospital, St. Mungo's. And his father had been an unwitting pawn of Voldemort (though Draco used the more common "You-Know-Who") through use of the Imperius Curse, which was some sort of mind-control curse that gave Halle chills.

For the first time, as Draco fell silent, staring out of the window, Halle realized that Voldemort was more than just some bully dark wizard that had happened to kill her parents; he'd been a tyrant, gathering followers or simply forcing people into his service through mind-control or blackmail, disguising a hunger for power behind claims of blood purity and supremacy. Mum had once watched a television special about Adolf Hitler, and Halle had traveled through the sitting room during some key moments. This Voldemort sounded like he would've gotten along with the Nazi dictator.

And Halle had killed him.

Not directly, of course. Being one year old, she hadn't been in control of most of her faculties. But something about her had turned a killing curse back on Voldemort when he'd decided to make a clean job of his attack on Halle's original family. She had a feeling Mum knew a little about it, but whatever it was, she wasn't telling just yet, and Halle didn't have the heart to press her after all of this change.

Still, that didn't stop Halle from wondering a few things: what had been so important about her parents that Voldemort himself had deigned to kill them when he could've sent any one of his brainwashed masses to do it? Why kill a child that posed no apparent threat? And, the big one, what did drooling one-year-old Halle Potter do that had caused the Dark Lord to shuffle loose the mortal coil?

Lost in her musings, she didn't notice Draco calling her name until he poked her in the cheek, causing her to jump. With a chuckle, the blonde sat back and smirked at her.

"Knut for your thoughts," he said, and Halle shrugged.

"Oh, nothing interesting," she said. Draco nodded, accepting the answer. He held up his left wrist and pointed at his watch.

"We'll be there within the hour," he said. "We'll step out while you change into your uniform, then, if you don't mind, you can do the same while we change."

Halle glanced outside while the boys stood and made their way into the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle even taking a post on each side of the door to make sure she wasn't disturbed. Without her noticing, it had gotten noticeably darker, the sun setting fast behind some trees in the distance. She scrambled into her robe, her heartbeat picking up at the imminent arrival to Hogwarts.

…

Hogsmeade station wasn't much more than an old but well-kept building with a long wooden platform that the students piled onto. The sun had fully set by now, the platform lit by hanging lanterns and occasional older student's wand flaring with a bright light.

Just as Halle was about to cast a light spell of her own, a booming voice immediately to her left made her jump and almost drop her wand.

"Firs' years, this way! Firs' years, follow me!"

Halle turned and backed up a few steps when her eyes settled on the largest man she had ever seen in her life. Bigfoot had nothing on this man, whose mane of shaggy hair and enormous beard made him look like a wild man who had wandered onto the platform. If not for the older students paying him little mind, she would have been alarmed.

"Who is that?" she asked in a whisper.

"Hagrid," Goyle said, speaking for the first time Halle could remember.

"He's the gamekeeper," Malfoy said, giving the giant man a wary look. "Mind yourself. Father says he's a bit savage."

The large man seemed nice enough to Halle, even stopping to help Neville up by the scruff of his shirt when the boy tripped over a shoelace. He stopped at the edge of the platform as the older students all made their way down a path that presumably led to another means of transportation.

"Ev'ryone here?" he called, scanning the crowd, his eyes pausing for the briefest moment on Halle, and she thought she saw the man's beard twitch in what could have been a smile, feeling herself reflexively smile back. "Alrigh', follow me, and mind yeh don' trip!"

Hagrid led them down a steep, narrow path through dense trees that obscured all light except the stars above. Once, Halle lost her footing, Crabbe reaching out to grab her under an arm and lift her up effortlessly.

"Thank you," she said, and Crabbe nodded silently.

"Alrigh' yeh'll get yer first look at Hogwarts in jes' a few seconds," Hagrid said, pointing at a curve in the path ahead.

Awed gasps rose from all around, Halle's joining the fray as she caught sight of one of the most beautiful old castles ever. Across a mirror-black lake, the enormous stone structure looked right out of a painting, the occasional window glowing yellow in the dark night, the pinprick of light reflecting off of the lake.

"Not bad," Draco said, his soft voice sounding much more impressed than his words let on. Halle raised an eyebrow at him, and he winked as they continued on their way.

Further down the path, they came to a collection of docks, a small fleet of boats bobbing in the water.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, and Draco stepped into one, graciously helping Halle to sit next to him. Crabbe and Goyle stepped in after, attempting to take one side to their own, but with a mutter that they would capsize if they did, Draco arranged them on opposite sides, Halle giggling the entire time.

"Ev'ryone ready?" Hagrid called. "Off we go!"

As one, the collection of boats set off across the lake, and the castle loomed larger and larger as they drew closer, slipping through a sheet of ivy that revealed a sort of underground harbor. The boats docked (even tying themselves down), and again, Draco climbed from his boat first, helping Halle to stand.

Okay, she could get used to this.

Hagrid strolled up to large wooden door and rapped sharply on it with a massive hand. Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal one of the most imposing women Halle had ever laid eyes on. She was tall and looked be in her sixties or seventies, but Halle supposed that age only added to a witch or wizard's formidability. Her black hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and Halle didn't use severe to describe a hairstyle that often.

"Evenin', Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said. "The firs' years for yeh."

"Thank you, Hagrid," McGonagall said. "I will take them from here."

She led them through the door and into a hall so huge that Halle actually felt the slightest wave of dizziness at just big the place was. The ceiling stretched nearly out of sight, and along the stone walls, torches lit the place. A marble staircase opposite them apparently led to the upper floors.

"Amazing…."

"Not bad, is it?" Draco whispered in her ear.

"This way," Professor McGonagall said, leading the first years into a small chamber off the entrance hall. When the door shut behind them, she rounded on them. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before that, you must be sorted into your houses. While here at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will attend classes with your housemates, and most of your free time will likely be spent in your house common room.

"You may earn or lose points for your house through commendable actions or…flouting the rules," the stern thinning of her lips told any prospective Gryffindors exactly what any "flouting" would bring them. "At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup. The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

Outside the smaller chamber, the sounds of footfalls could be heard, likely the older students passing through on their way to the banquet hall. "The Sorting will begin shortly. I suggest you do what you can to…smarten up."

Nearby, the boy who had lost his toad shifted uncomfortably.

McGonagall left them, and mutterings broke out amongst the students, speculation flying about what sort of procedure the Sorting would be. One redheaded boy was going on about how his brother had told him it was a very painful process, another wondering out loud if they would have to fight each other.

"Do wizard parents just not tell their children?" Halle asked Draco in a low voice. Draco smirked.

"I guess a lot of them like to maintain the mystery, give their kids something to fret over."

"That's not very nice," she groused, and Draco chuckled at her minor moment of petulance.

"It's all in good fun," he said.

The discussion was momentarily interrupted by a cabal of ghosts drifting through a far wall, apparently in the middle of a discussion, though the quartet was too far away to catch much. The ghosts briefly stopped, staring ponderously at the students.

"Is it that time already?" one mused, a short, plump man dressed like a friar, smiling at a nearby student, a small blonde that shrank back at his look. "Wonderful! Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!"

"Move along, now," McGonagall's voice came, and the students turned as the ghosts drifted off. "It's time to begin the Sorting."

She led them back out into the larger chamber and through a massive set of double doors into an (if possible) even larger room.

Halle gasped; if the entrance area had been impressive, this room was simply wondrous. The ceiling was apparently charmed or spelled to look like the sky outside, an inky mass dotted with stars. Hovering in the air above four large tables (one for each house, she assumed), floating candles cast a warm light around the place. Adjacent to the four tables, one smaller table held all the teachers. Halle spotted Hagrid, who met her eyes and gave her another beard-twitching grin, and as her eyes scanned along the table, she stumbled a step.

Cash!

The same hook-nosed, pale man that had given her the cryptic message that had started all this sat at the table, his eyes riveted on her. She felt her face heat up under his scrutiny and – was he smirking at her!? Her shyness vanished, replaced by indignation as she glared back at him, only causing his smirk to widen before he looked away.

"Why's Professor Snape _smiling_ at you?" Draco asked. "He hardly ever smiles, let alone at _people_."

"His name is Snape?" Halle asked as they came to a halt. "He found me at the zoo the day before my Hogwarts letter came, told me to make sure I read it."

"Odd," Draco said. "Snape's the Potions Master here and head of Slytherin." He was about to say more, but at that point, Professor McGonagall called their attention to a stool in front of the staff table, on which was perched a very old, very worn-looking hat. As they watched, a rip opened along the hat's brim.

And it sang.

The song was a quirky little number, outlining the points prized by each founder in their prospective students. Halle sort of paid attention, a little distracted by the fact that a sentient hat was singing them a song.

The hat finished its little number, and Halle joined the polite applause while Professor McGonagall moved to stand next to the stool, unrolling a long scroll.

"Hannah Abbot!"

A small blonde girl brushed past Halle and made her way forward, McGonagall lifting the hat so she could sit on the stool. The stern professor placed that hat on the girls' head, and….

"Hufflepuff!" the hat called after a few seconds, and a table full of students to the right burst into cheers. Smiling with clear relief, Hannah hopped from the stool and made her way over as polite applause sounded from the rest of the tables.

"Susan Bones!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Terry Boot!"

"Ravenclaw!"

As the crowd of students whittled down, Halle noticed something. Most of the time, the hat only required a few seconds of deliberation, and other times, it required up to a minute before it shouted out the student's new home. Lavender Brown, a smiling blonde girl that wouldn't have looked out of place in a clothing catalogue, wore that hat for a minute and a half before the hat declared her a Gryffindor. Crabbe was made a Slytherin as soon as the hat touched his head (though if it was possible for a hat to look disoriented, this one surely did after coming into contact with the large boy's simple mind).

Then a peculiar thing happened: McGonagall neared the end of the E names, and Halle was prepared for the moment when she would shout "Halle Evans!".

But it never came.

McGonagall moved right on to the F names.

"What about me?" she turned to Draco, who shrugged, looking dumbfounded as well.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Seamus Finnegan!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Anthony Goldstein!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Gregory Goyle!"

"Slytherin!"

"Hermione Granger!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Daphne Greengrass!"

"Slytherin!"

The crowd shrank, and soon….

"Draco Malfoy!"

Halle was left alone as Draco gave her a little wave and moved to sit. The hat had barely touched his head when –

"Slytherin!"

Standing, Draco sauntered over to the table and sat between Crabbe and Goyle. Halle shrank in on herself, glancing around. A redheaded boy nearby gave her a commiserating smile, and she felt a little heartened; at least she wasn't the only one fighting a turning stomach.

Then….

"Halle Potter!"

She blinked. Was that her? Looking around, she saw no one else step forward, though she noticed she wasn't the only one trying to catch a glimpse of…well, her, it seemed. Whispering broke out as she stepped forward, feeling her face heat up as people realized who she was.

"_That's_ Halle Potter?"

"Can you see her scar?"

"She's got a headband on."

"She kinda cute."

She hopped up onto the stool, briefly glancing up at McGonagall.

"It's, um…Evans, ma'am. Halle Evans."

She thought she saw the faintest hint of a smile quirking the professor's lips.

"Very well, Miss Evans," she said, placing the hat on her head, and Halle's world went dark as the too-large hat covered her eyes.

A voice, not quite there, fluttered through her head.

"_Hmmm, difficult…. Very difficult…. A courageous young lady, to be sure, and a sharp mind. And raw talent like I haven't seen in ages. A thirst to prove yourself, to overcome your non-magic upbringing…."_

That hat could read minds, it seemed.

"_Of course I can, dear girl. How else would I do this job? Guess?"_

Halle couldn't stop a little giggle, and the hat chuckled along with her.

"_Now, where to put you? A cunning girl like you would do well in Slytherin, but you've the courage of a Gryffindor. Goodness, such a tricky student…. I do look forward to your type. Always rewarding to see how you fare…."_

Halle briefly pondered that Cash—Snape—was the head of Slytherin, and despite his rather intimidating appearance, Halle found him somewhat fascinating. If she were in his house….

"_Hmmm, well Slytherin could use a dose of some genuine courage. Better be…_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted at large, and after the briefest of pauses, the Slytherin table erupted in cheers, though the other three looked slightly off-put, only clapping politely as McGonagall lifted the hat from her head, her mouth a thin line, though she gestured Halle toward the table of green-clad students. Halle noticed as she walked that her robes faded from pure black to the green-trimmed Slytherin colors, complete with matching tie.

Neato.

She sat between Malfoy and Crabbe, Malfoy clapping her on the shoulder.

"Welcome to Slytherin."

…

The rest of the Sorting passed in a haze, Halle barely paying attention, such was her relief at having braved the process. Now that her stomach had stopped tying itself in knots of anticipation, she noticed how hungry she was. She stared mournfully down at her empty plate as Albus Dumbledore took the little podium in front of the staff table. An ageless old man with waist length silver hair and beard, the headmaster had the kindly look of an old man looking upon his favorite grandchild as he smiled down at the students.

"Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts!" he said. "Before we begin our excellent feast, I have a few words for you all, and they are as follows! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

Halle quirked an eyebrow, glancing over at Draco, who shook his head while the rest of the students applauded.

"Mental, that man. Father says he should've retired the headmaster post a long time ago."

"He's funny, though," Halle said with a shrug.

"Maybe, but you don't get to be headmaster of a school by telling jokes," Draco countered, reaching for a platter. "Mashed potatoes?"

Halle blinked. Then she blinked again. Where once a table full of empty platters sat, now there was a full spread of some of the most sumptuous looking food she had ever seen. Mum's boss had once given her a gift certificate for one those fancy restaurants that had required Halle and Dud to dress in their Sunday best, and Halle would've wagered a frightening amount of money that their fare would seem like school food to this.

She served up a helping of mashed potatoes, ham, gravy, and some dishes she couldn't name but they were _delicious_. She came back for seconds, lamenting that she might put on more than a few pounds if treated to this sort of food on a daily basis.

Perhaps the sheer size of the castle ensured that any excess calories were worked off simply commuting from class to class.

When the students had eaten their fill, the food disappeared, leaving the dishes sparkling clean, only for them to refilled by a spread of desserts, some of which brought actual tears of joy to Halle's eyes.

She ate at least as much dessert as she had the main course.

"Like sweets, then?" Draco asked, his amusement apparent as Halle took a bit of Boston Crème Pie.

"_Love_ them," she said once her mouth was clear. She noticed quite a few of the surrounding students giving her curious looks, but one look from Crabbe or Goyle (both of whose sheer size made them intimidating even to a seventh-year) cowed them back to their meals.

"Draco Malfoy, did you tell these two to scare off others asking about me?" she asked, smiling at the blonde, who had the grace to at least try to look sheepish.

"I figured you didn't want any questions about being the Girl-Who-Lived," he said. Halle rolled her eyes at the nickname.

"Is _that_ what they call me? The Girl-Who-Lived who defeated You-Know-Who? You wizards do love hyphens."

Draco actual laughed at that, taking a spoonful of pudding. "Names used to be a powerful thing among wizards. I guess old habits die hard."

"That seems to be the motto around here," Halle said with a wink, and Draco shrugged.

"Isn't there a muggle saying? 'If it's not broken, don't fix it'?"

"I'm surprised you know it," Halle said, glancing back up toward the staff table, her eyes locking on Professor Snape, who was chatting with a man in a luridly purple turban. She was just pondering how odd it was to see a man wearing a turban in Scotland when it happened.

A prick of pain, like someone prodding at her scar with a knife, before it was gone. She clapped her hand to her forehead, but the sensation was already gone. Draco glanced at her curiously.

"Headache?" he asked, and Halle shook her head.

"A bug," she said. Draco smiled, though it turned into a small frown as he slid a finger under her headband and gave it a tug, letting it snap back to her forehead. "Heeey!"

"Pink does not go well with Slytherin colors," he said, and Halle stuck her tongue out at him.

"I like my headband," she said. "And it looks like I'll be needing it, all these people staring at my scar."

Draco glanced up at the staff table as well, looking back to her. "I bet Snape would charm it green for you. He seems to have a thing for you."

She felt herself blush, shaking her head. "Oh, don't be daft."

…

When dessert was gone as well, Dumbledore took the podium again.

"Now that everyone's had their fill, I have a few final words before we retire for the evening. First years should note that the forest on the edge of the grounds is absolutely forbidden to students. A few of our older students may try to keep this in mind as well.

"Our caretaker, Mr. Filch has taken great care to remind me that any and all use of magic in the corridors is against no less than forty-two separate rules.

"Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term. Anyone wishing to play for their House teams should contact their house quidditch captain or Madame Hooch.

"And, lastly, this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is forbidden to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

Halle blinked, wondering if she'd heard right. What sort of warning was that? Any trouble-maker in the school would see that as a challenge.

"Is he serious?" she asked Draco, who was again shaking his head in exasperation.

"I do believe he is," the blonde said. "Father says Dumbledore's always pulling crazy stunts like this."

"Maybe you should write him," Halle said as Dumbledore dismissed them. "Tell him Dumbledore's up to something."

"Might be a good idea," Draco said as the Slytherin Prefect, a rather petite blonde girl named Gemma Farley, led them deep into the castle's dungeons, offering a walking commentary of the school, the staircases (which liked to change where they led from day to day), navigating from classroom to classroom (some doors liked to pretend they led you to your classroom, only to lead to a broom cupboard), and Peeves, the castle poltergeist, who would simply love an opportunity to cause havoc for a firstie.

They finally reached what appeared to be nothing more than a blank section of the cellar wall. Gemma spoke.

"Legatia purus."

A hairline crack appeared in the featureless wall, which swung inward, revealing it to be set of double doors very cleverly pretending to be a wall. Gemma gestured them in, and the group walked down a short corridor before emerging into a large square room packed with low-backed green armchairs and sofas. The whole room was dimly lit with glowing green lanterns, and two large windows showed a black expanse that might have been water.

She couldn't stop a strange leaping in her chest, a sense of satisfaction, of homecoming. As she looked about the room, she saw people that respected power and ambition, and she knew that she both in spades; all she had to do was show it to them.

Quick as the thought had formed, she banished it with a shake of her head, wondering what had prompted it in the first place.

Gemma led the girls to their dorm while the male prefect (whose name escaped Halle) led Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a few others to the boys' dormitories. She stepped in to find a sizable room packed with four posters for each of them. Halle found her trunk sitting at the foot of the only one with a window, though again, it only looked out into inky blackness.

"Okay, let's get something straight, Halle Potter," a voice said, and Halle turned to see a girl she remembered as Pansy Parkinson glaring at her. "I don't care if you're the Girl-Who-Lived, the savior of the world, or the Minister for Magic. I've got plans for my time here, and they involve you staying out of my way."

"Really?" Halle asked, unable to suppress a laugh. "The first night, and you're going alpha queen bitch?" She'd never cursed before, but damn it, if Draco could, she could, too!

Pansy's face pinked, but she held her ground, her little brown pug eyes narrowing. "I'll warn you once, Potter. Stay out of my way, and we'll get along fine."

Halle smirked, not the least bit intimidated. "I wouldn't _want_ to get along with a self-entitled little tart like you."

In the background, two girls snickered, sharing a little grin, and Pansy turned red. She started to reach for her wand, but Halle had hers out first, aiming it at the girl's nose. She scoffed and grabbed some clothing, storming off to the showers.

"Not bad, Potter," another girl said, nodding at Halle. She was taller than Halle by a good few inches, with shoulder-length blonde hair and icy blue eyes. In a muggle school, she would be deemed an "ice queen" and have a following of no less than seven boys. "Daphne Greengrass."

"Pleasure," Halle said. "But it's Evans. Halle Evans."

"Fair enough," Daphne said, gesturing at a shorter girl nearby. She was plump, but not overweight, with curly brown locks to her mid back. "This is Tracey Davis."

"Charmed," the smaller girl commented before going back to changing into her pajamas.

"Millicent Bulstrode," another voice said, and they all turned to see a rather large girl with her hand stuck out to Halle, who automatically took it and gave it a shake. Millicent Bulstrode was nearly as large as Crabbe, and about a head taller. She had neck-length hair cut in a bob hairstyle that just wasn't right for her round face, but Halle wasn't about to tell her that.

"Um, nice to meet you, Millicent," she said.

"I'd watch my back, if I were you," Daphne cautioned Halle as they all changed into the pajamas. "Parkinson's not the only one who'll probably try to make a power-play like that. The Girl-Who-Lived getting put in Slytherin probably wrecked a lot of social standings out there."

"What do you mean?" Halle asked, sitting on her bed. Daphne moved to stand in front of her, hands on her hips.

"There are two types of Slytherins," she said, holding up to fingers to emphasize her point. "You have your alphas," she pointed to one finger, "who are either wealthy, influential, powerful, or all of the above, and attract followers looking for a taste of power. And you have your glory-seekers," she pointed to her other finger, "who are just looking for the most powerful alpha to latch onto to try to further their own interests. Although, I suppose there's a third type that just doesn't get involved and does their own thing." She shook her head. "But those first two types are what you should care about. You're the Girl-Who-Lived," Halle really wished people would stop calling her that, "which makes you powerful and influential already. You're the child of the most talented witch and wizard to go through Hogwarts in some time, and the Potter family is a respected old family, meaning you've got some real-world political pull to boot. If anyone's got a target on her back, it's you."

"How do people know these things about me when I don't?" Halle muttered to herself, shaking her head, and Daphne laughed.

"The point is, if you wanted to, you could pretty much run this house," she said. "If you want, I can help."

"Are you the 'type two'?" Halle asked, air-quotes and all. Daphne smirked.

"I'm just looking to have some fun while I'm here," she said.

* * *

This chapter started to drag toward the end, since there's not a lot of room for deviation right when they get to Hogwarts without derailing the story. Rest assured, now that Halle's settled into Slytherin, things will really start to stir up.

Reviews are always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

Not as many reviews as the first chapter on that last one. Or maybe there were, and they were so spread out, I didn't notice. Either way, as much as I hate to sound like a review-grubber, my fragile ego does like the occasional bit of positive feedback.

In this chapter, we depart substantially from the established canon, most notably in the Slytherin Head of House's attitude toward the Girl-Who-Live, who looks quite identical to her mother.

Oh, and I got a review asking how "Halle" is pronounced. It's pronounced exactly like Halley or Hallie. I just liked the odd spelling and the fact that it has the same amount of letters as "Harry".

Read on!

* * *

"That's her, isn't it?"

"Yeah, the redhead with Malfoy and his goons."

"Blimey, she's not bad-looking, isn't she?"

"She's eleven!"

"Can you see her scar?"

"She's got that headband on."

_And it's staying on_, Halle thought with a roll of her eyes. Like she'd give anyone a chance to gawp at her scar like she was some display at a zoo. Already, she'd been treated to little Professor Flitwick falling from his stool after reading Halle's name during the attendance call, followed by Professor Quirrell actually screaming when he reached the famous name.

Neither seemed to hear when she corrected them that it was Halle Evans.

The one bright spot during her first week of lessons was Professor Snape, who didn't need even need correcting, though his eyes lingered on Halle for a little longer than was necessary when he called her name.

"Halle Evans…."

"Here, sir," she said, quite unnecessarily, blushing a bit under his gaze. Stranger though, was his reaction to another name.

"Pansy Parkinson," he said, this time with no small amount of menace, actually glaring up at the girl. "I will be keeping my eye on you."

"Professor?" the girl asked, confused.

"No backtalk," he said icily, "or I shall have you in detention. Parvati Patil…?"

Halle glanced over at Daphne, whose eyes were wide with amazement as she looked back, mouthing a short, "Wow…."

Halle hated thinking that any incident was directly caused by her unless she actively instigated it; she though it conceited and melodramatic. Still, Pansy Parkinson had made a move only a few days ago (and had been verbally needling Halle at every opportunity since then) and Snape was being rather vindictive toward her. Given his previous behavior toward Halle, she could only assume (though she hated assuming) that it had to do with her.

Well, Snape had told her that he was friends with Lily Evans, right? Maybe he was looking out for out of some kind of sense of loyalty?

When he finished roll call, he stepped out from behind his desk.

"There will be little foolish wand-waving or spouting of silly words in this class," he said, his voice barely audible, though Halle was sure everyone in the room could hear it. "I expect little of you to have any appreciation for the subtle art of potion-brewing, the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron, but for you…select few," his eyes again hovered on Halle, who shifted in her seat, "I can teach you how to bottle glory, brew fame, and even stopper…death."

The silence was palpable as the class hung on his every word.

"Parkinson!" he barked, and Pansy jumped, as did several others. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Pansy looked nonplussed, as did a good portion of the class. Halle watched as Snape shook his head.

"Tut tut…. Well, then, Miss Parkinson, where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Halle knew this one! She wondered if it was appropriate to raise her hand….

She tentatively did so as Snape admonished Pansy again.

"Never thought to open a book before term, Miss Parkinson? Perhaps you can at least tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Halle knew _this_, too! She raised her hand a little higher, a few of the students clearly marveling at her bravery.

"Pity," Professor Snape said, turning to Halle. "Perhaps…Miss Evans can restore my faith in this crop of first years. Miss Evans?"

"Um…monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, sir," she said.

"And it is also known as…?"

"Um…aconite?"

"Excellent. And a bezoar?"

This one had really stuck with Halle, as she found it funny that there was a specific term for this particular object and had also wondered who had first thought to use it as an antidote.

"It's the stone in a goat of stomach."

"And its primary use?"

"I-it's an antidote that cures most basic poisons."

"Exactly. And what would you get if you combined asphodel root and wormwood?"

"Um…." That one had Halle stumped. Though, if she remembered to properties of asphodel…. "A…sleeping potion?"

"Also known as?" Professor Snape prompted her, and the memory shot to the surface of Halle's mind.

"The Draught of Living Death!" she said triumphantly, smiling, and she saw the corners of the Professor's mouth twitch, though he didn't actually smile.

"It's a relief to know at least one of you actually took the time to learn some of your course books before starting this year. Twenty points to Slytherin, Miss Evans. Miss Parkinson…" he turned back to Pansy, all malice again, "you could stand to learn a thing or two from Miss Evans."

Pansy glared at Halle, though a look from Crabbe made her plop back into her seat.

Professor Snape then set them to work brewing a simple potion to cure boils. Having spent quite a bit of time in the kitchen with Mum (who strictly followed the recipes and rarely deviated from the instructions), Halle immediately took charge of things, Malfoy relegated to simply adding the specified ingredients and chopping the occasional root or bat spleen. He didn't seem to mind all that much.

Professor Snape prowled through the tables, scrutinizing their cauldrons, stopping occasionally to shoot a scathing comment at a student who was doing particularly poorly. Halle wasn't one for the tough love approach to teaching, but then, she wasn't a teacher, either. Snape was still working here after several years, so he must have been doing something right. When he stopped by Halle's cauldron, she tensed, though Snape only gave her a satisfied look.

"Unsurprisingly, Miss Evans has stewed her horned slugs to perfection," he said, looking down at Halle. "Precisely five minutes, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Halle said, feeling a swell of pride, and Snape nodded.

"Another five points for Slytherin," he drawled, and Malfoy grinned at her.

"Twenty-five points in one class," he said. "Not bad."

As he said this, a loud hissing noise filled the room, and the class all turned to see poor Neville Longbottom (the boy who had lost his toad) curling up in pain as his melted blob of a cauldron spilled to the floor. Halle hurriedly pulled her feet up, though she needn't have bothered, as Crabbe hoisted her up onto her chair seconds later.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, waving his wand, the potion vanishing in seconds, though Neville was whimpering as angry red boils sprouted over his skin. "You! Take him to the hospital wing!"

Neville's partner, a small Irish boy named Seamus something-or-other, led Neville from the room, and Halle felt a sting of sympathy; those boils looked nasty.

"That is why you should always carefully read the instructions," Professor Snape said. "Parkinson!" he barked. "You were right next to Longbottom. Why didn't you tell him to turn the heat off before adding the porcupine quills?"

"H-how was it any of _my_ business?"

"Detention, tonight," the professor said. "I don't appreciate backtalk, Miss Parkinson, least of all in my own classroom. All of you, dismissed. Miss Parkinson, I expect you down here after dinner tonight."

Pansy was glaring daggers at Halle; it was clear she'd reached the same conclusions Halle had (or she was simply looking for someone to blame).

"Miss Evans," Professor Snape said as they were leaving, "a word."

Halle gave Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle a wave, and Draco promised to save her a spot at dinner. Turning she moved to Snape's desk, giving him a small smile.

"What did you need, Professor?"

"First of all, the contents of this conversation are to never leave this room, are we understood?"

Halle was dumbstruck for a moment; she had expected, "How are you liking Hogwarts?" or "Nice to see you again." or "I was madly in love with your Mum, and I want to adopt you."

Well, maybe that was still coming (though the last seemed a tad farfetched, she admitted).

"Um…sure," she said. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

Professor Snape nodded. "I have noticed that you seem rather close with Mister Malfoy and his…ilk. Is this true?"

Halle nodded, still mildly confused. "Well, yes. He's a nice boy. Very polite."

"_Too_ polite, wouldn't you say?" Professor Snape said, quirking an eyebrow. "You are a smart girl, Miss Evans, but you're like your mother. Quick to trust. It's an admirable quality, but an unfortunate one for a Slytherin. I suggest you temper it with no small amount of caution."

"You're saying Draco's…using me or something?"

His face was impassive. "I assume Draco Malfoy has told you about his father's history as a Death Eater?"

"Those are the ones that serve Voldemort, right?"

Aside from an extra blink or two at the mention of Voldemort's name, Snape did none of the silly flinching or twitching that usually accompanied the forbidden name. "Yes…. A great many Death Eaters came forward after your defeat of the Dark Lord, claiming to be under the imperius curse. However, Lucius Malfoy was one of the few to escape any actual questioning under truth serum, after many large donations to Ministry-funded organizations and charities."

Halle felt a feeling of dread welling up in her. "He bribed his way out of trouble. So, we can't be sure if he really was being forced to do it?"

"Correct," Professor Snape said. "And what would be a perfect cover for a Death Eater trying to avoid public suspicion?"

"Having a son who's chummy with the Girl-Who-Lived," Halle said, frowning as a few odd points clicked into place: Draco's timely introduction, setting himself up as the first student she met, his steering of her into a compartment with only his friends, his unfailing politeness, even making his goons act like a couple of bodyguards and treat her like a glass trophy. She felt a small wave of shame that she'd let herself get carried away like a giggly little girl meeting a dashing young boy. "That little…bastard!"

"Do not blame yourself," Snape said, showing no reaction at her outburst. "Your ignorance of our world up until now is unfortunate, but if you're anything like your mother, you'll learn fast, especially if you form some real friendships. Misses Greengrass, Davis, and Bulstrode seem to have taken a liking to you."

"You…know about the other night?"

"Little happens in Slytherin house that I am not aware of," the professor said. "Now, I wouldn't be so keen to dismiss Mister Malfoy's friendship just yet. He'll have his…uses…. However, take everything he says with more than a pinch of salt."

Halle was beginning to understand just what being a Slytherin meant.

It was sort of exciting.

"Now, run along," he said, standing. "I imagine you're hungry."

"Professor," Halle said, staring at her shoes. "What was my mother like?"

She thought, for the tiniest second, she saw a flicker of some undefinable emotion on the professor's face before he schooled his features back into his emotionless mask. He looked down at Halle, seeming ready to snap at her, but his eyes met hers, and he seemed to deflate.

"She was…a very vibrant girl."

She wanted more, but her birth mother was clearly a sensitive subject for the professor, so she simply thanked him and excused herself.

…

Pansy Parkinson was waiting for her on the way up to the Great Hall, a triumphant smirk on her face as she leaned against some statue or other, standing and moving right into Halle's path.

"No boyfriend or minions to back you up now, Potter."

"My name," Halle said, warily reaching for her wand, "is Halle Evans."

Pansy rolled her eyes, her own wand in her hand already. "_Rela – _"

"_Expelliarmus_," Halle interrupted her, and Pansy was thrown back as her wand shot from her hand. She landed unceremoniously on the floor. Darting forward, Halle grabbed up her wand and smirked at her. "Gotta be quicker than that."

"Give it back, Potter," Pansy snarled getting to her feet, and Halle felt her lip curl.

"My name," she said, "is HALLE! EVANS!"

"What is going on out here!" a familiar voice said, and Professor Snape stepped into the corridor, taking in the scene and immediately glaring at Pansy. "Attacking a fellow student, Parkinson? Make that a week's detention in addition to tonight's. Miss Evans, I'll take Miss Parkinson's wand."

"Aw, can't I keep it, sir?"

"Now," he warned her, though Halle could swear she thought she heard a hint of amusement in his voice. Handing over the wand, she brushed past Pansy, giving her an impish grin. The pug-faced girl had murder in her eyes, but Halle found herself unable to worry about repercussions.

…

True to his word, Draco had saved Halle a spot, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him at the Slytherin table, though Crabbe sat far enough from him that Halle could squeeze in.

"What did Professor Snape want to talk about?" Draco asked. Halle had to quell an urge to smack the blonde in the back of the head.

"He just wanted to make sure Parkinson wasn't giving me too hard a time," she said truthfully, though that hadn't really been the subject of their conversation.

"Is she?" Draco actually looked concerned, though now that Halle knew his true intentions, she kind of just wanted to thump him. "I could have Crabbe and Goyle take care of her."

Halle smiled. "While I appreciate the offer, I can handle her. She's an annoying bint, but she doesn't scare me."

"That's the spirit," a new voice said, and Daphne and Tracey sat across from the quartet. Daphne went on. "Pansy was talking about teaching you a lesson. I'm guessing she came off worse?"

Halle smirked. "I got to try out the disarming charm. It worked fantastically."

"Disarming?" Daphne gave an appreciative nod. "Most _second years_ have trouble with that."

Halle crossed her arms impressively, succeeding in knocking over her goblet of pumpkin juice, causing the group to laugh, and even Halle had to giggle.

"Anyway, I actually wanted to see if you wanted to hit the library tomorrow," Daphne said.

"The library?" Halle blinked, confused. "Why?"

"I was thinking," Daphne said, "since you're muggle-raised, you probably don't know much of anything about wizard law, society, that sort of thing. And most muggle-borns can get away with that, but you're Halle Potter. Even if you're Halle Evans," she said defensively when Halle glared at her, "to a lot of people, you're Halle Potter. And I guaranteed you're going to be involved in our world a _lot_. So, why not know more about it?"

That was actually a pretty good idea. It wouldn't do for the supposed savior of the wizarding world to bumble around without a clue how the wizarding world actually worked.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt."

…

For all his proper gentlemanly conduct, even Draco was just an eleven-year-old boy, and eleven-year-old boys, for the most part, weren't big fans of the library. Thus, Draco and his "goons" elected to spend the day wandering the castle, promising to memorize any secret passages or interesting sights to show Halle later. This left Halle with Daphne, Tracey, and Millicent Bulstrode (oddly enough), who also wasn't much for reading but enjoyed Tracey's company, it seemed.

They started by simply picking out any book that looked like it promised information about wizard customs, laws, traditions, etcetera, and piled them on a table. Wandering the shelves, Halle had to marvel that the Hogwarts library was simply enormous, twice again as big as the public library back home, and that was just sheer floor space. The shelves stretched up almost out of sight, in many cases requiring a precariously tall ladder that rattled uncomfortably whenever Halle ascended it.

She was just coaxing herself down on another successful venture (_A Compendium of Obscure but Useful Wizard Bylaws _and_ Duels to the Death and When They're Appropriate_) when she hopped from the ladder and bumped into someone putting a book away on a nearby shelf.

"Oh!" she jumped and turned, finding herself face to face with an Indian girl in Ravenclaw robes. She had long black hair that went just past her shoulders and deep brown eyes that boys would fawn over in a couple of years, no doubt. "Oh, I'm sorry! Didn't see you there."

The girl smiled, shaking her head. "It's no problem," she said in a British accent, so she was probably a third or fourth generation Indian. "I can understand why you'd want to get off that ladder as soon as possible."

Halle rolled her eyes. "It's dreadful!" she moaned (though quietly). "I feel like I'm going to come crashing down with each step!"

The girl chuckled. "Well, it's magically reinforced, so that would never happen," she said, "but the noises it makes don't do any favors."

Halle smiled. "I'm Halle Evans."

"Halle…oh," the girl smiled back, obviously realizing _exactly_who Halle was. "Padma Patil. Nice to meet you, Halle Evans."

"Likewise," Halle said. Padma glanced down at the books Halle was toting, smiling.

"New to the wizarding world, then?"

"How could you tell?" Halle said dryly, and Padma laughed.

"Oh, it's nothing to fret about," she said as they made their way back to Halle's table. "Hermione, my friend, is a muggle-born, so she's soaking up as much wizard culture as she can. You two ought to collaborate."

"Sure," Halle said as the pair set off through the shelves.

"I'm a little surprised, though," Padma said. "I mean, even if…with your parents…" she trailed off, looking awkward, and Halle smiled.

"My parents died," she said. "It's okay, it was a long time ago."

Padma nodded, blushing a bit. "Well, I'm surprised you don't at least know a little about the wizarding world."

"My Mum…well, my aunt, but to me, she's Mum," Halle looked to Padma, who nodded to show that she followed, "she was a little…protective. I guess she thought the wizard world would take me away and never give me back."

"That's silly," Padma said with a laugh, and Halle nodded, shrugging.

"Well, that's Mum," she said. "She's a bit paranoid sometimes, but she's wonderful all the same."

"I hear that," Padma said, turning and spotting something. "Oh, there's Hermione. Oi! Hermione!"

They strolled up to a girl with a true mane of hair. Halle had seen curly hair, but this went beyond curly and into bushy territory. Why Hermione kept her hair long was a mystery, but Halle would have chopped such untamable locks down to shoulder-length years ago. Looking up from whatever book she was consulting, she turned bright brown eyes on them, her expression turning shocked when she saw Halle.

"Halle Pot – "

"Halle _Evans_," Padma overrode her, and Hermione pinked.

"Halle Evans, of course," she said, shutting the book with a snap and replacing it on the shelf. Her eyes fell onto the books in Halle's arms. "Are you researching wizarding culture as well?"

"Actually, yes," Halle said. "I was raised muggle, so I don't know much of anything about all this."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You don't? Oh, it's ever so fascinating! They have laws for the most unusual things! Did you know that it's legal for a wizard to enter into multiple marriages if he's the head of more than one recognized Noble Family, _and_ he has to decide which family each wife represents?" She hoisted a book titled _Noble Families and How to Run One_. "It's completely misogynistic in my opinion, but it's utterly _fascinating_ from a scholarly standpoint. And it's apparently – "

"Hermione," Padma cut across her. "The girl's said one sentence to you, and you're lecturing her about pureblood marriage policies. How about a proper introduction first?"

"Oh!" she blushed darker. "Of course. Sorry, I tend to get chatty…well, all the time. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Halle Evans," Halle said, smiling. "Padma thought that since we're both interested in magic culture, we should help each other out."

The bushy-haired girl smiled, showing a rather prominent set of front teeth, but not overly so. "I'd like that."

…

So it was that Padma Patil and Hermione Granger joined the little circle of study partners. Daphne and Tracey welcomed the additions friendlily enough, and though Millicent was cordial to Padma, she didn't really seem to acknowledge Hermione more than social niceties called for.

That worried Halle.

Reading through the books, she wasn't surprised to hear about blood prejudices; purebloods, born of two pureblood wizards who could trace magical lineage on both sides for several generations, apparently looked down on half-blood wizards (who only had one "pure" parent) and outright loathed muggle-borns (who they termed "mistakes" and "dirty"), who they derogatively called "mudbloods".

Hermione seemed particularly interested in that section.

Halle thought it was all bollocks. A wizard or witch's measure wasn't lineage; it was talent. And from the two days she spent getting to know Hermione, she could see plenty of talent. The girl was sharp as a tack and had mastered spells second years would struggle with. Channeling her inner Slytherin (but really just looking for a friend outside of her house and away from the politics of the snakes) she made tentative advances toward friendship with the bookworm, who seemed to respond favorably.

Her knowledge would prove useful.

But she also seemed really nice.

She quickly learned that Hermione was the child of two dentists, Dan and Emma, who were the most normal couple of muggles possible. Doting parents, they had sensed that something wasn't quite normal about their daughter for some time, and it was a relief to all three when McGonagall showed up at their doorstep two months ago and welcomed them to this strange new world.

"It was ever such a surprise!" Hermione said as the strolled through the corridors one night on the way to dinner. "Imagine, me doing magic! Well, I suppose you _can_ imagine it, as I'm here at a magical school, but if you'd told any of my schoolmates about it, they would've fainted! Of course, you would've gotten in trouble for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, but – "

"Hermione," Padma said. "Rambling."

"Oh!" Hermione pinked and smiled. "I'm sorry if I get to be a motormouth. I didn't have many friends back in my muggle school. Well, I didn't have any friends at all, actually."

"Why not?" Halle asked. With her slightly large front teeth, rambling tendencies, and penchant for a good book, Halle thought the girl was simply adorable.

"Well, as you can tell, I love books," Hermione said as they trotted down a staircase.

"You think?" Halle said, though she smiled at Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"The other kids…they preferred climbing trees and cartoons and other rubbish," she went on, and Halle nodded; Dud was the same way. Heck, so was she, to a degree. "When we were out on the playground at school, and they saw me reading a book instead of playing tag or something, they'd pick on me. Call me bookworm or squirrel because of my teeth."

"That's horrible!" Halle said, frowning. "They're not even that big."

Hermione smiled at her, shaking her head. "I never let it bother me that much," she said. "When it got…really bad, this one teacher, Mr. Mason, would always get involved. He'd chase the kids off and make sure to stand close by in case they tried to come back. It didn't win me any friends, but at least I got to read in peace."

"Well, I'm glad there's a sensible adult out there," Halle said with a nod. "And now you're here, and we're all your friends."

Hermione gave Halle a skeptical look. "A bunch of Slytherins, friends with a muggle-born?"

"Daphne and Tracey are better than all that pureblood-mania rubbish," Halle insisted. "And Millicent's coming around, hopefully. And I was raised muggle. My birth mum was a muggle-born. I'd be doing my genes a disservice if I went for that sort of thing."

Hermione giggled, and Halle gave her a playful nudge as they split off for dinner, heading to their separate tables

…

In short order, Halle not only learned more about the wizarding world than some purebloods probably did (even if she didn't remember it all, she had a meticulously catalogued collection of notes to reference), she'd even read up a bit on her own personal history. She was born Halle Petunia Potter (when Daphne suggested the nickname "Tuni", Halle had her wand out in seconds with a rather firm denial) to James Charlus Potter and Lily Violet Evans on 31 July, 1980, and her parents had died nearly a year and a half later, on Halloween night of 1981.

Most of that she knew already.

Her birth parents had married right out of Hogwarts, though it was not a shotgun marriage, as their youth would imply; Halle hadn't been born until three years after that. James and Lily Potter had been very powerful, as well; she found three separate mentions of them in the history books coming off better in a fight against Voldemort, who was obviously no slouch.

She also learned that she apparently came from some wealth, learning of a Potter family vault somewhere in Gringotts that she would certainly devote some time to learning about.

She learned about Voldemort himself as well. He had been born Tom Marvolo Riddle nearly seventy years ago, though not much was known about his life before Hogwarts. Accounts from his fellow students described him as a quiet, polite boy and an exceptional student, a member of the "infamous" Slug Club, which an account of contemporary peer groups of Hogwarts described as "a collection of up-and-comers of Hogwarts, headed by noted socialite and Potions Master, Horace Slughorn, retired." Apparently, Lily Evans had been a member, as well as Severus Snape. That explained how they'd known each other.

"Halle, look at this," Daphne said, paging through a chapter of _The Potters: An Unofficial Biography of the Couple That Shaped Our World_. "_Sirius Black_ was your parents' best man, _and_ your godfather!"

Halle blinked, shaking her head uncomprehendingly. "I don't even know who that is."

"Only the most infamous mass-murderer in ten years!" Tracey said. "Besides You-Know-Who, of course. According to this book," she held up a copy of _An In-Depth Study of the Dark Lord's Fall_, "he was your parents' Secret Keeper, and he sold them out to You-Know-Who."

Halle had read enough to at least understand the basics of the Fidelius Charm, and it stood to reason that her parents would have gotten one, since they knew Tom Riddle (whom she refused to call any sort of nickname or title) was after them. And it made sense that their old school friend and James's best man, Sirius Black (who was quite dashing in the picture in the book) would be the Secret Keeper.

What didn't make sense was the betrayal. Sirius Black had been, by all accounts, James Potter's brother in all but blood. One school-friend had described him in a Daily Prophet article in the days following Riddle's fall from power:

"_Sirius…you'd never expect a guy like him to go Dark. Yeah, he was a member of the Black family, but he and his family never got on. He was a Gryffindor, and yeah, he was a troublemaker, but he wasn't evil. This…just doesn't make sense."_

Halle studied the words, her brow puckered in thought. From what she'd read about wizard society so far, they were a naïve, gullible, and jumpy lot. Albus Dumbledore defeats a dark wizard named Grindelwald, he's tapped to become Minister for Magic (though he declined the position); Halle Potter somehow manages to bring about the fall of "Lord Voldemort", they form some sort of messianic mythos around her; and even a decade later, they're still afraid to speak the moniker "Voldemort".

She could find no record of a trial for Sirius Black in anything she read, and given what she'd learned, it was highly likely they just skipped the trial and stuffed Sirius in this Azkaban prison, problem solved, end of story.

That just didn't sit right with Halle.

"I want to know more about this."

…

While she was glutting herself with every bit of useful knowledge she could find, quidditch lessons crept up on the first years. A sign posted in the common room alerted them all that in a week's time, they would be joining the Gryffindors for their first quidditch lesson.

"What's the point of teaching us quidditch if we can't even have our own brooms?" Draco groused one day as they all gathered around a table in the common room to work on a Potions essay. "Anyway, I doubt I'll need these lessons. I've been flying since I could walk."

"We _know_, Malfoy," Daphne said, smirking at him. "You've been telling us about your helicopter chases and bank robbery adventures for two days."

Draco pinked but rolled his eyes at the girl. "Have _you_ ever ridden a broom, _Greengrass_?"

"Once or twice," she said loftily. "I didn't care for it."

"I can't wait," Halle said, actually bouncing in her seat. "I mean, yeah, I'll probably break my neck or something, but flying sounds wicked!"

"_Also_ something I've been hearing the last two days," Daphne said, though her smile was a bit more genuine as she poked Halle in the shoulder. "You remind me of my little sister when she found out we were holidaying in Italy last year."

Halle stuck her tongue out at the girl. "Anyway, Hermione's been helping me read up on flying techniques and pointers and stuff, so I shouldn't crash and burn as bad as someone with _no_ experience."

"Hermione?" Draco asked, looking up from his Potions book. "Who's she?"

"She's a Ravenclaw girl we met in the library," Halle said. "She's brilliant. She knows more than a lot of third years, I reckon, and she's really nice."

"And she really knows her way around a library," Tracey said. "She was helping Halle find out about Si – "

"Severus," Halle cut her off, giving the shorter girl a warning look. "Snape, you know. He…seems to like me, so I wanted to know about him. Did you know he and Lily Evans were friends in school?"

"I didn't," Draco said, smiling. "She had good taste in people."

"She did," Halle agreed.

…

It was a gorgeous day for flying, Halle thought. While Draco went on about wind conditions and humidity and technical details, Halle simply walked along in silence, Daphne rolling her eyes with such frequency that at one point Tracey asked if she was feeling ill.

"Oh, just a lot of hot air around here," Daphne replied, and Halle giggled.

"Be nice," she said warningly, and Daphne smirked.

"…not actually have a broom, but my brothers all do," a redheaded boy was bragging as the Slytherins drew near the training area. "Back home, my brother, Charlie, would let me borrow his Cleansweep all the time, and I'd take it for a fly around the fields."

"That's Ron Weasley," Draco said in a low voice. "Watch him. His family's the lowest of low-class, and not all the way there, if you get my drift. Dad thinks they might have inbred a few generations up."

"Oh," Halle said, though Professor Snape's advice fluttered through her head. _Take everything he says with more than a pinch of salt._ "I'll keep that in mind."

Ron Weasley looked up at the approaching group, laughing at something a taller black boy was saying, his eyes widening when he spotted Halle.

"Oh, brilliant," he grumbled. "We get to fly with the snakes."

"Watch your tone, weasel," Draco shot back. "I'm surprised you've poked your nose out of the ground at all. Do you think you can actually fly without smashing into a tree?"

"I could fly circles around you, you snotty little toerag!"

"That's probably the _only_ way you could fly," Draco quipped. "In circles."

"Males posturing for the famous 'Halle Potter'," Daphne whispered in Halle's ear, and Halle let a small scoff.

"You know, that's probably it," she said. "Of course, neither of them has a chance, and I'm too young to date, anyway."

"Rubbish," Daphne said. "I had my first boyfriend at nine."

"Did you do anything except hold hands and try to kiss?"

"Not really. I didn't even like him. But he was my boyfriend."

Halle laughed, and Daphne winked at her.

"Mister Malfoy, Mister Weasley, settle down," a raspy voice said, and a woman with short, spikey silver hair and bright yellow eyes strode between the two groups of students. "Good afternoon, everyone."

"Good afternoon, Madame Hooch," they chorused. The woman stopped and turned to survey them.

"Welcome to your first flying lesson," she said. "I'll want two orderly lines, standing to the left of your brooms, on the double."

They hastened to obey, each student taking the directed place. Poor Neville Longbottom nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to do as instructed.

"Hold your right hand over the broom," the students did so, "and say, very clearly, 'Up!'. Do so now."

"Up!" the students chorused. Halle's broom leapt to her hand, causing her to stagger slightly. Next to her, Draco's broom also flew to his hand, though not quite as enthusiastically as Halle's. Daphne had to shout a few times (as did quite a few other students, some with varying degrees of frustration or desperation), finally resorting to glaring at her broom, which finally hopped to her hand.

Tracey Davis simply picked her broom up.

"I don't understand why we have to shout at them," she explained herself as Millicent did the same.

In short order, everyone had their brooms in their hands, and Madame Hooch showed them how to properly mount the broomstick (earning several giggles from some students, including Ronald Weasley), and she held up her whistle.

"I will count to three, and then I will blow the whistle," she said. "_Only then_ do I want to see any of you leave the ground. Fly up twenty feet, hover for a moment, and then fly back down. Any showboating will earn loss of points and possible detention. Understand?"

They all nodded, and Madame Hooch seemed satisfied.

"One…two…."

And then one student shot into the air, causing a few others to jump away in shock as Neville Longbottom soared skyward, likely jumping the gun out of sheer nervousness. The boy had been looking close to tears for nearly the whole lesson.

"Mister Longbottom, come down here this instant!" Madame Hooch shouted, and Halle rolled her eyes. If there was anyone less likely than Neville Longbottom to showboat during a quidditch lesson, Halle hadn't met him.

As the class watched enraptured, Neville seemed to attempt to turn his broom back toward the ground, succeeding only in managing some sort of barrel-roll that unseated him, sending him plummeting downward, leaving the broom to hover lazily as its rider crashed with a muffled shout of pain.

"Move! Out of the way!" Madame Hooch hurried toward the boy, crouching next to him and checking for breaks and bruises. Well, at least she seemed genuinely concerned for Neville. "Oh, dear. Broken arm. Well, you could've fared much worse, at least. Up you get."

She hauled Neville to his feet and made toward the castle.

"Everyone else is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I get Mr. Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. If I find out anyone's even hopped too high, it's detention."

With that threat hanging in the air, she whisked Neville away. Halle felt a pang of sympathy for the boy; not only had he made a spectacle of himself, he'd broken an arm to boot.

"Poor kid," Daphne muttered, and Halle nodded. "Uh-oh. Your boyfriend's peacocking again."

Grumbling, Halle turned to find Draco hoisting a glass ball that had apparently fallen from Neville's pocket on his landing.

"Maybe Longbottom should've been hanging onto this tighter," he chuckled. "Then he'd remember to fall on his fat ass."

"Draco," Halle said, trying to inflect a bit of the stern tone her Mum adopted whenever Dud swore in hearing range (which seemed to be their entire house and the neighbor's sitting room). "You should give that to one of the other Gryffindors to give back to Neville."

Draco frowned. "It's not like it's any use to Longbottom," he said. "It's a remembrall. They're rubbish. Completely useless."

"Even so, it's _his_," Halle insisted, hands clenching at her sides; Draco really was a bit of a prat.

"Fine," the blonde grumbled, turning and striding toward the Gryffindors. Just as he was nearing them, though, someone (Halle had no idea who, Slytherin or Gryffindor) made the unmistakable impression of the sound of a whip cracking, earning giggles from quite a few of the students and a pink flush from Draco, who recovered quickly. Smirking at the Gryffindors, he climbed on his broom.

"Know what?" he asked. "Why don't I just save them a step and take it up to Gryffindor tower for them? Right on the roof sounds good to me."

_So close_, Halle sighed mentally as she watched Draco float away. Grabbing her own broomstick, she mimicked the position that Madame Hooch had demonstrated.

"Don't kill yourself," Daphne cautioned her, and Halle rolled her eyes.

"Appreciate the concern," she said with a smirk, kicking off. She was aware of a thrill similar to that first giant hill on a roller coaster, though instead of falling down, it was like falling up.

It was wonderful.

She shot into the air, much faster than Neville had, and brought herself level with Draco, who was looking at her surprise.

"Draco," she said, trying for something like a glare but aware that she probably just looked petulant, "give me the remembrall."

"You're not the boss of me!" Draco said, his expression defiant. "It seems like you're always telling me off or telling me what to do. Well, I'm tired of it! You're not my mum, and even _she's_ not as bossy as you!"

"Well, it seems like you could _use_ a little scolding now and again!" Halle shouted back, bringing her broom around, her hands shaking as they gripped the handle. She hated arguing. "Draco, you seem like a nice boy, but sometimes you can be a real prat! Like now! Give back the remembrall!"

Draco huffed, holding out the remembrall.

_Finally_, Halle breathed to herself, easing her broom forward and reaching out for the remembrall –

Just as Draco dropped it.

"Oops," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You are a gigantic ass," Halle grumbled as she shoved the broom down into a dive, glad that she'd thought to pull her hair back into a ponytail as she picked up speed. She knew this was dangerous, knew that she had no idea what she was actually doing, but bloody hell _was it fun_!

Reaching out with both hands, she gripped the remembrall, which felt more solid than it looked. It might even have survived the fall, but it was best not to find out.

She pulled her broom up just as she was a few feet from the ground, stumbling into a landing as a cheering crowd of Slytherins (and one or two Gryffindors) descended on her. For a brief moment, she was the island in a sea of cheering students, and she didn't mind so much being the center of attention for once.

"Halle Evans!"

Halle's momentary elation deflated like a popped balloon as she turned and saw the stern countenance of Professor McGonagall drawing closer, followed by Professor Snape, whose expression was, as usual, unreadable.

"I'll take that, Miss Evans," McGonagall said as she drew near, holding out a hand for the remembrall, which Halle handed to her. "Thank you. Severus, I will defer to you in regards to the consequences. She is your student. The rest of you, back into your lines!" she called to the students.

"Follow me," Professor Snape instructed as McGonagall herded the students with all the effectiveness of a full riot squad. The pair made their way back to the castle, Halle leaving her broom near the leftover pile.

"You have a knack for flying," Professor Snape observed as the entered the castle, their footsteps echoing in the large, silent room. "That was your first time on a broom, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Halle said, glancing fearfully up at him. "Am I in trouble?"

"You are not," Professor Snape said. He spared her only a quick glance before staring back ahead, leading her up a staircase. "Quite the opposite, in fact. Would you be interested in joining the Slytherin House quidditch team?"

Halle was momentarily shocked into silence, stopping briefly before she hurried to catch up to him. "Um…. I suppose. I don't have a broom or anything, and I've never even played a game."

"We will sort out the broom issue," Professor Snape said as they mounted a staircase. "And your role in the game will be quite straightforward."

"Well…alright, then," Halle shrugged. "Why not?"

She was rewarded with a ghost of a smile from the sallow man as they stopped outside Professor Quirrel's classroom.

"Quirinus, I would like to speak with Flint, please."

Professor Quirrel's voice came from within the room, though Halle couldn't make out his words. Moments later, the pair was joined by a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, though he could've easily passed for older, as he was built like the wrestlers Dud idolized. He had a face that seemed to constantly be scowling, though when he looked at Halle, the frown lessened.

"Flint," Professor Snape said, "you told me that Higgs is looking to become a chaser?"

"Oh…yeah," Flint said, nodding. "Said he didn't like the pressure."

"Then I have found you a seeker to replace him," Professor Snape said, glancing down at Halle.

…

"A seeker! In your first year! It's completely brilliant!"

Halle felt her face heat up as she listened to Padma gush. She was but one of many; Daphne had already spent upwards of an hour planning Halle's path to "Queen of Hogwarts" using this latest development as a springboard, while Hermione had squealed that she was so happy for Halle but she shouldn't do something so dangerous _ever again_. Besides her close circle of friends, nearly every Slytherin in school had congratulated her at least in passing, her fellow teammates commenting that it would be nice to actually have a girl on the team.

Draco avoided her at all costs.

After his little display, McGonagall had sentenced the haughty blonde to a night's detention, awarding Halle thirty points for standing up for a Gryffindor before docking five for her reckless behavior.

A net gain, Hermione had called it.

The strangest development, though, happened as the Fabulous Five (Daphne's idea) sat in the library, ostensibly working on a Charms essay but also conducting a whispered recap of the last couple of days. Halle noticed a cluster of first-year boys (Neville among them) covertly watching her as they perused the shelves. Among them was Ron Weasley, who seemed torn between contempt at a Slytherin and admiration at her flying prowess (it was written all over his face).

"Ignore them," Hermione muttered, noticing Halle shoot the group another glance. "Honestly, some of us are actually using the library for its _intended purpose_," she hissed the last couple of words at the boys, who seemed more amused than perturbed. Halle caught the words "bookworm" and "know-it-all" thrown around amongst the boys, and Hermione's face reddened, though she didn't glance up from her paper. Just as Halle was about to stand and go give them a piece of her mind for insulting her friend, Neville broke away from the group and strode up to Halle's seat, stopping and shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"Um, H-Halle…um, Evans?" he said, glancing back at the boys, who seemed awestruck as they watched. "I wanted to…to thank you for getting my remembrall back from Malf-um-Drac-um…Malfoy. The others…they told me about how you stood up to him and even caught it. And I heard you made the quidditch team! So…congratulations and…thank you. I'll be rooting for you."

Halle gave him a smile, slightly pleased at the way Neville's face pinked when she did. "What if I'm playing against Gryffindor?"

Neville's eyes widened, but he stood his ground. "Then I'll root for both of you. There's…well, no rule against that, right?"

Halle giggled, only causing the poor boy's face to redden further. "I suppose there's not. Well, it's nice to know I have a Gryffindor fan. And you're welcome. Draco was being a git."

Neville stood there for about a second, maybe trying to think of something else to say, but he just mumbled another thank you and shuffled away. The girls could hear his friends razzing him all the way out of the library, earning a reproving glare from Madame Pince. Turning back to the others, Halle was greeted with four knowing smirks.

"Someone's got a crush on yooouuuu," Daphne sang in a low voice, and Halle threw a crumpled parchment at her.

"Oh, shut it."

* * *

Don't ask where I'm going ship-wise. They're only eleven.

Also, I have no idea.

Reviews are appreciated!


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